


The Valentine's Plan

by astralgabriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Plot, Canon Compliant, Cute, Fluff, Gabriel Lives, Humor, Humour, M/M, Oblivious Dean, Pagans, Protective Gabriel, Valentines, gabriel wonders why he thought involving cupids was a good idea, lots of cupids, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3271841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralgabriel/pseuds/astralgabriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, the tale of how Gabriel managed to convince several cupids to help him in a ridiculous plan of getting Dean Winchester and Castiel together, whilst trying to seduce Sam Winchester. </p><p>It was a recipe for disaster from the get go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. T minus 13 days

**Author's Note:**

> If I manage to keep on top of this, I should be putting out a chapter every day in the lead up to Valentines Day.
> 
> The cupids aren't the main focus of this, but obviously, they needed to be introduced. Next chapter on will be focusing much more heavily on the Winchesters and Castiel having to deal with the beginnings of Gabriel's plan.
> 
> Enjoy!

Haniel, Anzhela, Parasiel and Vangelis all lounged in various states of laziness around one room. They were cupids, all from the same garrison, who’d managed to find each other after the Fall. And together, they’d ducked out of the fighting, and cobbled together to rent a small apartment. It wasn’t much, but they managed to derive comfort together from the otherwise completely bleak situation. 

Things seemed better now than they were before; the angels seemed to be fighting less, and the mean angel who tried to rule Heaven had apparently been toppled. Still, they avoided the outside world – and their siblings – as much as possible, choosing instead to stay in the company of each other. 

Haniel was lazing around, along with a few of his fellow cupids. They’d all managed to huddle onto the same sofa as Anzhela popped open the newest DVD case; Anzhela had managed to get her hands on a copy of ‘When Harry Met Sally’. The past few weeks had been dwindled away in a blur ‘The Proposal’, ‘The Princess Bride’ and ’27 Dresses’; the loving angels refused to engage in Heaven’s wars, and decided to watch people engage instead. 

It was a nice system they’d set up. Each morning, one of them would go out to find a new set of films to waste hours on. Another would go on the groceries run. Except it was a less of a groceries run, and more of an ice cream, chocolates and tissues run.

Vangelis had suggested they try a different genre at one point, but ‘Saw’ had ended up being turned off after 10 minutes. The gore and violence went against every fibre of their being, whereas romantic comedies made them feel warm. It took almost 2 hours to stop Parasiel from crying. The cupids had all agreed that everyone in ‘Saw’ just needed lots of love, and moved onto ‘Clueless’.

Haniel was happy, if he managed to not think about his brothers and sisters. He’d wanted to help after the Fall, he really did, but everything had descended into violence too quickly. It felt like his heart snapped each time he’d dwelled on the issue for too long.

‘When Harry Met Sally’ had only just begun when the paper airplane hit Haniel, square on his button nose. He made a little squeak of surprise, and picked up the offending object with stubby fingers. “Who threw this?” He asked, his voice a little on the shaky side. Anzhela paused the film.

“Who threw what?” Vangelis replied, lounging across the sofa. His legs were draped over Parasiel and Haniel, crossed at the ankles.

Haniel waved the little paper airplane in the air. The light sparkled off small silver and gold hearts glued along the wings. The nose of the plane was creased from its collision with Haniel.

Parasiel shook her head, protesting with “Not me, brother!” She sounded upset that Haniel could ever think it was her.

“Me neither, Han,” Anzhela said. Her hands lifted a little, as though that was meant to prove she wasn’t guilty.

Vangelis shrugged, a little less emotional with his “Not me,” than his other siblings. It was one of the downsides of being a cupid – where the seraphs felt too little, the cupids felt too much. They were easily volatile, provoked by the smallest of things. Countless little explosions of emotion were packed into cupids; mostly either overwhelming joy with big grins and laughter, or crushing sadness and tears.

A second airplane came whizzing through the air, hitting Parasiel on the back of the head with a gentle bump. She picked it up, and burst into tears at the ‘OPEN IT DUMBASS’ scrawled messily across the wings.

Anzhela shuffled across the floor from the DVD player, resting her hands on Parasiel’s knees. Haniel draped his arm around her shoulder, hugging her into his chest. Vangelis threw the plane behind him and brought the tissues box over to her. “Whoever is being mean,” Vangelis called out, “Please stop it!”

The message of the second plane went completely ignored.

After a few minutes of Parasiel crying, and the three cupids gathered around her offering up kind words, a third airplane zapped around the room with a quiet whoosh. It came to a halt upon Parasiel’s lap. The cupids all saw ‘I’M SORRY’ scribbled in gold ink on the wings. Parasiel bit her wobbling lip and smiled.

“It’s okay, paper airplane. I forgive you.”

The paper airplane wiggled a little. Parasiel giggled. Haniel and Anzhela grinned. Vangelis squinted at it, but the edges of his lips turned upwards into a curve. It shook again, this time a little more violently, and the cupids responded with amusement again. 

When it jumped into the air and flew in a short zig zag pattern, landing in the lap of a new presence, the reaction was a little more surprised than happy. That was, until they cast their gaze upwards from the plane to the face of the new presence, and felt the grace of the new presence. Then even euphoria didn’t touch on how the cupids felt.

“Since you didn’t bother reading my message, I thought I’d come visit you oversized love monkeys.” 

Gabriel was perched at the other end of the sofa, toying with the airplane nestled in his lip, wearing a smug smile on his lips. A strand of hair had fallen down across his forehead, but he made no move to fix it, choosing to watch his younger siblings stare at him in awe instead.

Anzhela was the first to respond to the new voice. With a rather squeaky “Brother!” and a bone crushing hug. 

It didn’t take long for all four cupids to pile on top of the archangel with various squeals of delight and happiness. Gabriel’s various protests and pleas were muffled by layers of fabric and cupid.

That was the first time Gabriel wondered if death by hug or excessive affection was possible. He felt like he was probably about to find out, when they started to shuffle out of the hug, watching him like he was every Christmas ever rolled into one fun sized package.

It was sickeningly adorable. He couldn’t decide if the overly affectionate welcome was a good thing, or just a warning for what waited in the days to come.

“I missed you, brother!” Haniel said, with a big grin eating across his cheeks and up to the corners of his eyes.

Gabriel opened his mouth with a snarky retort, when Anzhela chimed in with a sing song voice: “Me too! We thought you were dead, brother!”

“It was so horrible, brother! We mourned your passing,” Parasiel continued, and Gabriel wondered if there was some form of psychic connection between the cupids with the way they flowed from one to the next.

“I’m glad you’re with us again, brother.” Vangelis was the only one who managed happy without being overwhelmingly joyful. Gabriel decided he was the most tolerable in large doses – albeit still quite intolerable.

“Shucks, I’m blushing,” Gabriel said, narrowly avoiding another wave of crushing cupid hugs. “You sure know how to make a guy feel loved.”

“That’s our job!” Haniel said, almost bouncing up and down on the spot.

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

There was a collective confusion, and Gabriel was convinced that they were mentally connected. They all just seemed ridiculously in tune with each other. That, or God hadn’t been very creative with the personalities of the cupids.

Finally, Vangelis verbalised what the four of them were thinking in a short “Huh?”

“You guys live for love, right?” The cupids nodded eagerly in response. “What if I said you could help in one of the greatest love stories ever?”

“Romeo and Juliet?” Anzhela asked, tilting her head.

“Think now, Shakespeare, not the dull ages.”

“God and humanity?”

“I’m gonna be sick, kiddo. No.”

“Wait… Wait, Gabriel, are you talking about who I think you’re talking about?” Haniel said, his eyes lighting up a little more with each word.

“Maybe,” Gabriel replied, with a grin that spelled trouble and mischief. 

“You want to set up Dean and Castiel!” Haniel shouted excitedly, pointing at the archangel. The cupid had started bouncing at this point, his stubby little wings wiggling frantically (and invisibly) on his back.

“Bingo, bucko. And I’m a man with a plan, if you want in.” The loud, excitable responses Gabriel got suggested that they might be interested in helping. A chorus of agreement rang out, and took a few moments to quieten again.

“How can we help, brother?” Parasiel asked, clasping her hands together.

Gabriel started to narrate his plan to them. His hands waved about animatedly as his words translated in literal, mid-air paintings of giant cakes and dancing troupes and quartet groups. Every utterance spelled out romance clichés straight from films, and it had the young cupids hanging on his every word. Glitter and cheesy music and a curiously copious amount of cross-dressing weaved through Gabriel’s plan, all reaching a climax in something that could’ve been set in a Broadway production.

“So?”

Vangelis nodded with a grin. “I’m in, brother.”

“Me too!” Parasiel added. Her brown eyes were wide with excitement.

“Count me in,” Anzhela said, with a smirk plastered across her lips.

“Sounds like a plan, brother!” Haniel replied.

Gabriel grinned, and stood up from the sofa. “We better get started then, kids. Valentine’s Day is closing in on us.”

He managed to disappear from the room before the cupids managed to engulf him in another hug. They followed the trail of his grace, and one by one, left the room.


	2. T minus 12 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step one of the plan lacks subtlety. And sweetness. And romance. And pretty much everything associated with Valentines Day.

It had started as a relatively good day. ** __**

 ** __**Sam and Dean had gotten back to the bunker the night before, after a Wendigo hunt. It hadn't been easy; they had anticipated one Wendigo, and got a little caught off guard when it turned out to be two. Castiel had fussed a little when he saw the new cuts and bruises they’d managed to amass, frowning when his offer of healing was rejected. **** __

It turned out that a long shower, a decent sleep, and pancakes in the morning solved most of the aches.

Everything was going smoothly, for once. Heaven seemed as stable as Heaven could be. Hell was in a state of well managed anarchy for once, as opposed to the normal anarchy it usually was. Dean seemed to be coping well with the mark. His blatant overcompensating had simmered down a little, to the point where he only ran maintenance on the Impala once a week.

There was a reason it had only started as a good day; for Sam, at least, it progressed into something much better.

It started with Dean shouting “Ha, fucking hilarious, Sam!” at around half eleven in the morning. The rhythmic thumps that followed reassured Sam that he could stay where he was and find out what Dean was yelling about.

He’d managed to get through another sentence of ‘Powers of Darkness, Powers of Light’ when Dean rounded the corner. His face was the picture of fury, with a soft sprinkling of embarrassment. In his hand – it was shaking, Sam noticed – was a bright pink card. Something was printed on it, but Dean’s hand covered the majority.

“You think this is funny, huh?” Sam slid the thin bookmark into the centre of the pages, and closed the book. He could just tell that this was going to take a while.

“I might do,” Sam replied, “If I knew what you were on about.” Dean’s jaw clenched as he stalked over to Sam, waving the offending pink card in his hand.

“You,” Dean said, jabbing Sam in the chest with a pointed finger. “Know exactly what I’m on about. This whole ‘Dee-stiel’ thing isn’t funny, and it never has been. You didn’t need to involve Cas!”

“It’s Destiel.”

“What?”

“You said it wrong.”

Dean practically growled, and Sam smirked. “No, but seriously. I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Yeah, sure you don’t,” Dean retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The anger had transitioned into annoyance, complete with excessive sighing and unnecessary glaring. Still, it was better than rage.

“Come on, just tell me!”

Dean took a moment, studying Sam. His eyes flickered from Sam’s amused smirk, to Sam’s hands raised in mock surrender. He relented, eventually, and dropped the card on top of ‘Powers of Darkness, Powers of Light’. Sam noticed the way he glared at the card like it had announced Lucifer’s second coming.

The little rectangle of paper was pink, and not even polite enough to be a pastel pink. It was an obnoxious, neon pink, demanding to be noticed. Sam noticed the picture of Castiel first – badly photoshopped on the right hand side – and furrowed his brow. It didn’t seem too bad yet. On the left hand side, in a childish red font, read:

 _Roses are red_  
Violets are blue  
I raised you from Perdition  
I’ll raise your dick too

Sam had to read it again, just to make sure he'd read it right.

He didn’t even try to stop the laughter that shook through his body in deep, offbeat tremors. He could feel Dean’s glare bearing into the back of his head, and he couldn’t stop laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Dean protested, sounding more akin to a petulant child than a weathered, unstable hunter. Sam bit his lips together and looked at Dean, shaking his head. He didn’t trust himself to form words yet without laughing again. It took almost a minute for Sam to stop chuckling, and he sat still for a moment, wiping his eyes.

“Not me, man,” Sam forced out through a grin. Dean frowned at him. “Funny as anything, though.”

“If it wasn’t you, who was it?”

Sam shrugged, then saw the opportunity to jab a little at Dean. “Cas? I mean, maybe Destiel is a thing he wants, and he isn’t great at subtle.”

“ _Sam._ ”

“Alright, alright. I don’t know. But props to them – it’s hilarious!”

Dean glowered at him, and stormed out the room. Just from the look Dean had given him, Sam knew he wasn’t convinced.

And it wasn’t Sam. It really wasn’t. But Dean didn’t believe that, and Castiel had his doubts too, so Sam decided that whilst he was the main suspect, he was sure as anything going to capitalize on the jokes.

So when Castiel broached the topic of having a pet later – a guinea pig, preferably – talking about how it was customary for humans to have a pet, and how he wanted to be able to care for something, Sam put in his word of recommendation. Said he “thought it was a great idea, given how good Cas was at raising things.”

Dean might’ve chased him around the bunker with a worryingly sharp object, shouting out curses – literal and metaphorical – for the next ten minutes. And it was completely worth it.  


* * *

  
  
 “It doesn’t seem… well… romantic,” Anzhela said, frowning. She’d been sitting on the floor for most of the day, her legs draped over the edge as she watched the scene below unfold. Gabriel had managed to procure a small corner of Heaven, from which the cupids worked. It took the form of a white room, with one wall removed and open to the reality of Earth below them.  
  
“Romance isn’t really the best song for those boys, kiddo.” Gabriel lounged back into a white leather chair, his hands hooked behind his head, eyes shut.  
  
“I know,” she replied, and shuffled to her feet. “But, it was a little crude, brother.”  
  
Gabriel lifted his head, opening one eye and grinning at her. “Well, yeah. We want funny and punchy, bucko, not soppy. The cheesy sing song shit comes later.” He flopped back into the chair, kicking his legs up onto a matching ottoman that appeared under his feet.  
  
Anzhela was still a little in awe, and a little in shock. Gabriel was the first archangel she’d ever had the honor of meeting, and, well… It wasn’t really what she’d been expecting.


	3. T minus 11 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step one continues - whether it is a success or a failure is down to personal interpretation.

When Dean opened his eyes, everything was still pretty dark. Assuming he’d woken too early, Dean rolled onto his side with a groan and tried to submerge himself back into the land of unconsciousness. Which was exactly when a piece of card fluttered from atop his face, and the light of daytime struck him hard.

Pushing himself up slowly, a quick glance at the door assured Dean that the bolt was still on. Which meant that, unless his brother had figured another way into his bedroom, Sam wasn’t behind the card yesterday, or the new card today.

Dean sighed. Of course he wasn’t. Because that was just too fucking simple, and nothing could ever be simple.

Bracing himself for… well… he wasn’t really sure what, Dean turned the card over.

It was less of a garish pink, and more a softer pastel tone this time. There was another badly photoshopped image of Castiel, on the left this time, looking vaguely confused. Then, on the right, was a line in the same awkward looking font, printed in white.

_I’ll show you what the pizza man taught me._

“What the hell?” Dean muttered, his brow furrowed in something akin to confusion. There was a vague hint of concern there too – if Sam wasn’t the culprit, then something was getting in and out of the bunker, undetected. The warding sigils didn’t leave a wide scope of possibility.

Dean was swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, hand snaking under the pillow around the grip of the gun, when there was a sharp knock on the door. Scrambling to push the card out of sight, Dean brought the gun up in front of him and paced slowly towards the door.

“Who is it?”

“Cas,” came the gruff response. Dean unlocked the door, tucking the gun into his waistband as it swung open. Castiel stood in the doorway, his jaw clenched a little tighter than usual. Dean frowned, about to question the tense demeanour, when he noticed a small blue card in Castiel’s hand.

 _Fuck_.

“I’d like you to ask Sam to stop,” Castiel said, each word loaded with bite. “The cards aren’t… amusing anymore.”

“I don’t think its Sam.”

“Then who?” Castiel looked confused, tilting his head to the side a little as he squinted. It wasn’t adorable in the slightest. Definitely not.

“I don’t know.”

“But why would anyone-“

“I don’t know,” Dean replied a little louder. “What does yours say?” Castiel held the card up for Dean to see. It followed a similar format to the last two, with a bad image – this time of Dean – and a line or so of awkward, innuendo packed text.

_Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven, babe?_

It was pretty easy to understand Castiel’s less than pleasant reaction to the card. Hell, the pick-up line on its own was bad enough, but with the added context – it was quickly becoming clear that whoever was doing this knew them pretty well – the tacky card packed quite the emotional punch.

“Oh.”

“Did you have one too?” Dean blinked a few times, and considered lying. When he didn’t reply immediately, Castiel prompted with “Your question earlier implied you received one too.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I had one,” Dean replied, nodding. He wandered to the side of the bed and pulled out the pink slip from under the duvet, holding it out to Castiel. As the angel glanced over it, Dean could’ve swore he saw a fleeting flash of sadness, the faint ghost of a nostalgic smile on Castiel’s face. He didn’t bring it up, though.

“I think we should talk with Sam. This might be an issue,” Castiel said eventually, handing the card back to Dean. Their fingers brushed, and Dean tried his best not to notice how Castiel didn’t pull away immediately. Dean tried to ignore how it felt like a spark as they brushed.

“Uh,” Dean mumbled as he looked up. Castiel had been watching him carefully, almost waiting for a visible reaction. Something to work with, and maybe build off. He could’ve swore there was a hopefulness in the way Castiel’s gaze lingered on him; Dean realised he was probably projecting his own feelings there. What it was he was hoping for, he hadn’t quite figured out himself yet, but the cards had been winding him up a little more than they should have.

Biting the insides of his cheeks, Dean brought himself back to clear reality with the faint pain, and looked away. His hand ran through his hair, occupying itself with something as he said, “Come on – this ain’t going to solve itself.”

He shuffled out of the doorway, taking extra care not to brush against Castiel as he did so. Castiel stood still for a moment, watching Dean walk ahead down the corridor, then followed suite.

* * *

“It truly is beautiful,” Vangelis remarked as he watched the scene unfold. “To watch love blossom in a film is one thing, but you are completely alienated. Simply an observer. Yet, to be involved in the kindling of the sparks like this, to have a hand in the romance… There’s something incredible about it.”

“Alright Milton, settle down.” When Vangelis looked to Gabriel over his shoulder, confusion etched into every line on his face, Gabriel quirked an eyebrow. “Paradise Lost?” Vangelis squinted, watching Gabriel as though he’d said the most ridiculous thing. “One of the greatest literary works? Do you even read, kid?”

“I, uh, I’ve never had the chance to indulge in Earth’s entertainment before,” Vangelis replied, shrugging.

“The Fall was the first time we’d visited Earth for things other than work,” Parasiel said in a helpful tone. She’d taken to tasting all the different sweets and chocolates Gabriel had gathered, so the archangel had begun to materialise extra. Not that it would be an issue if they ran out; he just preferred to live in excess.

“That sucks. Humans are pretty impressive – you just gotta watch them, and get past all the bad parts.”

“You like them a lot, don’t you?” Anzhela said, smiling at him. Gabriel snorted, and rolled his eyes.

“I guess, in a funny way,” he said. The cupids were all watching him with interest. “I mean, from birth, they’re running against the tide. And they just keep trying, and pushing, and striving to be better. And sometimes you get a bad egg in the mix, but the majority of them are good.”

“Have you met any “bad eggs”?” Haniel asked curiously. He perched atop the white table, shuffling backwards till his legs dangled loosely, feet brushing against the floor. His vessel was quite small and full-figured, and it made the almost childish action of swinging his legs quite strange.

“Lots of them – the “bad eggs” are the loudest, you can’t miss ‘em. But, for every corrupt soul, there’s a sparkly bright soul to balance it out,” Gabriel said, with a soft smile on his face. A far cry from the usual sharp, snarky smirk he wore.

Parasiel sniffled, her eyes sparkling. She shuffled to her feet, and Gabriel saw the warning signs too late; outspread arms and a bright grin, quickly approaching him. He made to move out the way when she caught him in a death grip hug. “You’re so sweet, brother!” Parasiel said, squeaky and painfully joyful as ever. “You pretend to be all mean and sarcastic, but you’re just a big softie under all that!”

As the other cupids decided that they were long overdue a hug – for the fifth time in the last two hours – Gabriel had to bite his tongue to stop himself from swearing, or using his Father’s name in vain. Not that he hadn’t done it before, countless times. He just didn’t want to risk anything that would turn the four cupids into babbling fountains. Again.

* * *

Sam decided, as he settled the cuddly moose plushie next to his book, that he was going to wait for Dean to come to him. He wasn’t about to give Dean the reaction he wanted, and he knew his brother; Dean would be along to mock him soon enough, and to declare a full prank war.

So when Dean walked into the library, followed by Castiel, with a face devoid of the smugness Sam was expecting, there was a little confusion. And when Dean eyed the brown moose, clutching at a giant red heart, with amusement, then concern, Sam realised Dean hadn’t left the plushie. Which raised a fair few questions.

“Okay…”

“You believe it isn’t me now?”

Dean nodded sheepishly, and threw his card down onto the table. Castiel mimicked him, but his action was gentler. Sam looked them, and bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. All things considered, a plushie moose hugging a big red heart wasn’t too bad. It could’ve been worse.

“You too, huh?”

Sam glanced down at his little cuddly companion, and smirked. “Apparently, yeah. I woke up to him sat on the end of my bed.”

“The hell? Why do you get some cutesy toy, and we get these,” Dean pointed accusingly at the cards, “nasty things?”

Sam offered up a shrug, and a sympathetic smile. “You got any ideas what’s doing this?”

“Given the approaching holiday, I believe a cupid, maybe,” Castiel suggested, stepping forward from behind Dean. Sam nodded his head slightly; it seemed plausible, and given the nature of the events, likely too.

“However, the warding on the bunker prevents any angels from entering, unless given permission,” Castiel continued. “It’s possible the Men of Letters may have interacted with certain angels, giving them access to the bunker, but there are no recorded instances I can recall.”

“So, we’re back to square one then,” Dean replied. He pulled the nearest chair out and slumped down into it, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“A ghost, maybe?” Sam offered tentatively. He was already quite certain it wasn’t, but there weren’t exactly many ideas being knocked around.

“I’d be able to feel it. And this doesn’t seem typical of a ghost.”

“I think we can rule out anything like wendigos, vampires, all those kind. Call me crazy, but I don’t think they have a romantic streak,” Dean said, a small smirk playing on his lips. Castiel let out a small huff of air, amused.

“Uh, a god, maybe? Like Hermes, or one of the other trickster gods?”

Castiel frowned for a moment, then shook his head. “It doesn’t feel theatrical enough – they like recognition and attention, not confusion.”

“I’m all out then,” Sam said, slouching back into his chair. “I’ll check over the obvious lore, see if there’s anything we’ve missed out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll help out – sooner we can get rid of this thing, the better.”

“You need me to do anything specific?” Castiel asked, his hands tucking inside the pockets of his trenchcoat. Dean had given up trying to convince him to take it off indoors now.

“You just do your super sense thing, see if you can find anything that feels off, okay?” Dean replied, and Castiel nodded.

* * *

“I don’t remember anything about Sam in the plan?” Haniel said. Gabriel had managed to pry them off of him after a few moments of feeling like his vessel was being crushed, and they’d reverted back to lovesick puppy mode, watching the bunker like hawks.

“Just a little embellishment,” Gabriel said nonchalantly as he opened a third box of Belgian chocolates. “An added touch, you know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An added touch hahah Gabriel who are you bullshiting here?
> 
> Comments mean Gabriel doesn't have to endure as many Cupid hugs!


	4. T minus 10 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets to catch up with a few of his siblings, and the disastrous attempts at creating romance/irritating Dean continue.

Castiel stayed awake through the night. Having noticed a pattern of the ‘gifts’ being present when they woke up, but not when they retired for the night, he decided it was safe to assume that whatever was getting in and out of the bunker was doing so as they slept.

He hadn’t told Dean or Sam of his idea, knowing they’d insist on staying up too if they knew. He could handle this. Hopefully.

So Castiel stayed awake, with the help of caffeine and the laptop. It was pointless scrolling, googling his way into dead ends on lore. It was simply a way for him to waste the time away, without disturbing Sam or Dean as they slept, and without making himself obvious to any other presences.

The clock in the bottom right corner of the laptop had ticked over to 03:34 am when he heard a shuffling, coming from in the kitchen. Picking his blade up from off his lap, Castiel slowly walked over to the doorway, taking small steps to lessen any noise.

Gripping the silver blade tight in his palm, Castiel lifted it to in front of his chest defensively, and rounded the corner in a swift movement.

Two cupids were wandering around the kitchen, practically oozing happiness and love and glitter across the room. Castiel sighed a little, and lowered his blade. There was nothing even remotely dangerous about the cupids; they couldn’t hurt a fly if their lives depended on it. They posed no obvious threat.

One of the cupids – Haniel, he remembered from their last encounter – noticed him, and beamed like he’d just seen the cure to all the world’s problems. “Brother!” Haniel practically shouted, and ran at him, arms spread.

As thick arms wrapped around him, Castiel decided that cupids were dangerous. To humans at least; he couldn’t breathe, and resorted to trying to bat Haniel off with his loose arm.

When the death clamp finally released, Castiel steadied himself by gripping the counter tight. Vangelis watched him with concern, his fingers curled into Haniel’s shoulder. “Brother?” Vangelis said, his voice bordering on a whisper. At least one of the cupids understood the concept of quiet. “Are you okay?”

“Yes… Just, no more hugs,” Castiel replied, his voice a little rougher than usual. He looked up, and Haniel was close to tears.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you, brother! I just-“ Vangelis clamped a hand over Haniel’s mouth, muffling the rest of his utterance.

“Hush, brother. You’re being too loud.”

Haniel nodded, and when Vangelis drew his hand away, Haniel rubbed aggressively at his wide eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” Castiel asked. The snap in Haniel from devastated to painfully euphoric made Castiel, in his weary state, stumble back a step. The cupid practically jumped at the question.

“Because I just love love!” Haniel sang, clasping his hands together as a dreamy, spaced out look spread across his face. “And it’s almost Valentine’s Day, and, and you and Dean have been through so much, and you just deserve love and deserve each other, and oh, Castiel, it’s so sweet!” Castiel just nodded, because he wasn’t entirely sure how else he could have, or should have reacted.

“To put it short: you and Dean are one kiss short of being a beautiful love story,” Vangelis added. “We’re angels of love. We thrive on helping love along the right path, brother.”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but nothing is going to happen between Dean and I. Dean does not-“ A wide eyed Haniel pressed one finger to Castiel’s lips, shaking his head in horror. Castiel frowned at him. Vangelis quirked an eyebrow, with an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“Shhhh!” Haniel said, and Castiel didn’t even realise a cupid was capable of sounding aggressive. “Don’t say such silly things, brother!”

Castiel pushed the cupid’s arm down slowly. Haniel watched him with the same wide, disbelieving eyes throughout the smooth movement. “If this is about Dean and I, then why did Sam receive the stuffed moose yesterday?”

“I don’t know either!” Haniel answered, throwing his arms up in a dramatic shrug. “I mean, I ask-“ Vangelis’ hand gripped over Haniel’s mouth again, squishing his cheeks. Castiel watched them, suspicious.

“You asked who?”

“He asked Parasiel, our sister,” Vangelis said as Haniel folded his arms and sulked. Castiel didn’t believe him, and the cupids knew Castiel didn’t believe him. “She thought Sam would feel left out, and advised us to send a gift to him too.” Vangelis watched Castiel, willing him to believe it with every fibre of his being.

“That was… thoughtful of her.”

“She’s very thoughtful!” Haniel blurted out the moment Vangelis moved his hand. “Parasiel is very nice like that!” He nodded enthusiastically, grinning widely.

“Anyway, we must leave, Castiel. It was nice seeing you again brother,” Vangelis said, and pulled Castiel into a much softer hug than Haniel had. Castiel felt the warmth of the cupid’s grace press against him, and froze. Metatron had only restored angels who had submitted to him – the cupids wouldn’t have agreed, choosing death over joining the civil war. And yet, Haniel and Vangelis felt fully powered. Castiel tried to reach out with what little grace he had left, in the hopes that whatever had restored them, or at least fuelled them, had left some kind of mark.

Vangelis pulled away the moment he felt the soft brush of his brother’s grace against his vessel. He watched Castiel carefully and tensed, blocking Castiel’s attempt. Haniel seemed completely, blissfully ignorant, as per usual, with his bubbly smile and bright eyes. Vangelis caught him by the wrist, and pulled him away from the beginnings of a hug attempt.

“Goodbye, Castiel,” Vangelis said, and it was devoid of emotion. Wholly neutral.

“Bye, brother!” Haniel shouted, waving and bouncing until the two cupids disappeared from view.

Castiel stood in the kitchen, alone, and tried to fathom the new information into something that made sense. He sighed, rubbing a tired hand across his face and up through his hair, and left the kitchen. Whatever was going on, he decided, wasn’t an immediate danger – or a danger of any kind – so telling Sam and Dean could wait till they woke in the morning.

* * *

“Castiel is suspicious,” Anzhela remarked bluntly. Vangelis nodded, sighing, and Haniel was sat next to the chocolate stockpile. He was emulating something he’d seen in the countless romcom films floating around his head – comfort eating. The heroine – or hero – always did it after something particularly draining, and it always seemed to make them feel better. Haniel didn’t feel better; he just felt sick.

“I ruined everything,” Haniel mumbled, his bottom lip wobbling dangerously.

“Kid, you did fine! And you didn’t kill anyone, or break the world, so you’re already topping Cas.” Gabriel’s attempt at comfort didn’t really work. If anything, it served to break down the walls of Haniel’s emotional dam as the cupid started blubbering again.

“Castiel didn’t mean to kill anyone! Castiel is nice!”

“Well,” Gabriel started, playing on the vowel out until he noticed the glare from Parasiel. “Look, bucko, everything’s fine. Everything is going a-ok to plan. Cheer up, sunshine!”

“Really? I didn’t,” Haniel sniffled, “I didn’t mess everything up?”

“Nope. You did great, kiddo.”

“You’re so sweet, brother! I always knew you were!” Haniel said, as he shuffled to his feet. Gabriel groaned. He learnt the signs quickly, but still hadn’t figured out how to deflect the affection without hurting their feelings.

As the familiar grip wrapped around him, Gabriel rolled his eyes and muttered, “What is it with you guys and hugs?” He returned the embrace, though, his hand rubbing gently across Haniel’s back. The cupid’s little wings wiggled happily in response.

* * *

Sam didn’t even bother moving the cuddly moose toys that lined his room, painted in every colour he could imagine. He just glanced at them, made a huffing noise, and wandered out of the room.

He wandered into the kitchen, drawn by a thick scent. Dean was cooking pancakes, all of which would only spread into a heart shape, despite his best efforts. Sam didn’t even notice Dean’s shirt till the elder Winchester turned, sliding a pancake onto an empty plate. Sam had a cup of coffee clasped between his hands, and could only thank whatever deities that were still alive that he hadn’t taken a drink out of it yet.

Printed in the middle of his grey shirt was a big, cartoon style pink heart. Dean noticed Sam biting his lips together, and shook his head.

“Don’t.”

“Okay,” Sam replied quickly, and tried to push his grin down.

Castiel walked in and brushed past Sam to grab the plate with the pancake. He looked haggard and exhausted, and glanced between the two hunters. “I know what’s doing this.”

“Huh?” Dean replied, half paying attention as he flipped a pancake.

“Cupids. More than one of them.”

“How? I thought you said they couldn’t get in,” Sam said, lifting the mug up to his lips. He leaned back against the side, watching Castiel over the green rim.

“I’m not entirely certain,” Castiel replied. He sprinkled sugar over the pancake, then doused it with lemon juice and rolled it up. He drew his knife across it in deft movements, slicing it into five small swirls of pancake.

“But you’ve got an idea?” Dean said, and Castiel nodded as he ate the first piece of pancake.

Chewing it down, he swallowed the pancake and replied, “I don’t think they ever met the Men of Letters. The cupids I saw last night-“

“There were cupids here last night?”

Castiel scowled at the older hunter. “Yes, Dean, that’s how I know it’s cupids.” Dean made a hmphing noise and turned back to the pancakes.

“Married couple,” Sam coughed under his breath, and laughed.

“Sam,” Dean growled, and Sam just laughed again. He put his hands up in a mock surrender, and grinned between the angel and the hunter.

“As I was saying,” Castiel continued, choosing to ignore Sam’s remark. “The cupids were full angels – they had their grace.”

“So? They might’ve just submitted to Metatron, and he restored them,” Dean said.

“True. Except cupids are creatures of love. The concept of fighting is something they outright reject, so when civil war broke out, they would’ve hidden. Cupids would’ve chosen death over joining the war.”

“Are you suggesting they’re, what? Working for someone?” Sam asked, and Castiel nodded, his fork dancing over a second piece of pancake.

“Who? Who even hires cupids?”

“I don’t know. But whoever – or whatever – it is, it’s powerful. It managed to restore at least two cupids, and it’s overriding the sigils meant to keep angels out with ease.”

“Great. That’s fucking great. A super-powered matchmaker, playing with cupids,” Dean muttered, sliding the fresh heart shaped pancake onto another plate.

“So, what do we do?”

Castiel took a bite of his pancake, and shrugged. “Wait it out?” He said around pancake, then swallowed. “Sorry. It doesn’t seem to be a threat, and we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“So we’ve gotta endure this till, what, omnipotent lover thing gets bored?” Dean poured the jug of batter into the pan, watching as it filled an invisible heart shaped stencil again. He sighed.

“Without knowing what is doing this, we can’t make a move against it.”

“Great,” Sam said, though he wasn’t completely opposed to the whole idea. It wasn’t bad for him at all, really. Just a source of almost endless amusement. And maybe, it would be the push Dean and Castiel needed to admit their blatant feelings to each other. In all honesty, after getting over the initial shock of waking to cuddly moose plushies, Sam was almost thankful for it all.

The conversation dwindled to a silence. The pancake batter sizzled occasionally, punctuating the air as they ate.

That was, until Dean had wrapped the jug of pancake batter in cling film and made to put it in the fridge. The beer cans that lined the bottom shelf had a new name now – “Lovey Dovey Lager” – and the bottle was more of a rose tint pink than the standard brown.

“Son of a bitch! This is crossing the line!” Sam smirked. Castiel raised his eyebrows, vaguely amused. “I’m gonna kill them, I’m actually gonna kill them!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, getting a chapter up every night is proving to be a challenge! I'll keep pushing on though!
> 
> Comments stop Haniel from getting sad, so the more comments, the happier the little cupid will be!


	5. T minus 9 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commence step two - doing absolutely nothing (well, almost absolutely nothing).

It was midday, and everything was normal. Dean was concerned that everything was a little too normal, but didn’t want to complain out of fear that the cupids would come back. Castiel wondered whether being caught had spooked the cupids – and whatever was working with the cupids – out of continuing on with the plan. Sam felt a mix of relief that he didn’t have to deal with Dean grumbling constantly about the beers and the cards and the pancakes, and a little disappointed that he didn’t have anything to laugh at anymore.

Dean was sat at the table in the library, scrolling through countless local news websites. He’d decided that if they found a hunt, the cupids probably wouldn’t follow them. He’d managed to find a string of murders in Idaho ( _“We’re not travelling 900 miles for that, Dean. There’s nothing suspicious about it,_ ”) and a cluster of disappearances in Mason City, Iowa (“ _Maybe – see what else you can find on that._ ”) Apart from those, he’d come up short, and decided to recap the Iowa case. Nothing seemed remotely unnatural yet, but five disappearances from the same city didn’t seem like coincidence.

Sam flicked through a hand copied version of _The Grand Grimoire_. He’d only heard about it in passing before; a rumour amongst hunters. Supposedly written by a man possessed by Satan himself, the only legitimate copy apparently locked away by the Vatican. Except, there was a copy in the Men of Letters’ library. Sam wasn’t even surprised to find a copy in the library.

So far, it had only covered summoning rituals for Lucifer, which was the opposite of what Sam wanted. He was hoping, and holding out for, even a brief mention of the mark. He’d reasoned that surely with Cain being one of the highest ranking demons, and the father of murder, he’d at least have an honorary mention. Apparently not.

Dean tapped the screen a few times, and said “Got it. This is definitely a case.”

Sam didn’t glance up; the summoning spells, though unappealing, were definitely interesting, and helped Sam figure out what definitely not to ever do. “Go on,” he mumbled, finger trailing under one of the lines.

“The vics are connected – four of them’re linked with this guy called Marty Crawford.”

“Anything special about him?”

“According to this, he went off the grid a few years back. And now, his best friend, his business partner, one of his employees and his ex have vanished. All within the space of two weeks.”

“Huh,” Sam said, finally looking up. “The fifth one?”

“Some kid, mid-teens. No obvious link, but I’ll keep looking.”

“We could try Charlie, see if she can hack the local department’s systems?”

Dean paused, biting the inside of his lip. He didn’t enjoy drawing Charlie into the firing line, but at the same time, she was a huge asset and chose the life herself. She’d had countless chances to duck out and run, and she still stayed put. “Yeah,” he said in the end. “Yeah, you call Charlie, and I’ll see if I can pull up anything else.”

As Sam walked past, a pop up advert appeared. Dean groaned. Sam looked at it, and smirked.

_www.sinfulangels.com  
Porn for the unholy_

Dean clicked the red cross as quickly as he could, trying to pretend it never popped up. Mostly due to the background image of a dark haired man and a light haired man, naked, watching each other with lust blown eyes. Something nagged at Dean – the cupids he’d met were sweet, and pitifully innocent. Hell, they probably didn’t even know what porn was. He let the thought pass.

* * *

“You have a funny definition of romance, brother,” Anzhela said. A curl of black hair fell forward, and she blew it with a little puff of air, before brushing it back.

“Like the usual sappy stuff would work with those boys,” Gabriel retorted, and Anzhela shrugged.

“Have you actually tried any of the more… conventional methods with them? Like sending them on a date, or something simple?”

“Nope. But that wouldn’t be any fun, either.”

Anzhela snorted and rolled her eyes. “Of course it wouldn’t,” she replied, “but I see you have opted for less embarrassing tactics with Sam Winchester.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at her, watching carefully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sister,” he said, his voice low and bordering on threatening.

“Of course – I was silly for assuming you were the one leaving the plushies.”

“Can’t let Sam get away when Cassie and Dean-o have to suffer,” Gabriel replied, his tone lifting a little.

“Is that why Sam received almost fifty plushies over the last few days, brother?” Anzhela asked, pushing Gabriel to admit something. She’d suspected something from the first plushie. Having read the Winchester Gospels in her time on Earth had helped her understand the archangel a little more to begin with, and his behaviour fell into place like a jigsaw puzzle piece.

“So sue me,” Gabriel replied, flouncing his hands. His face was an exaggerated picture of sarcasm, challenging Anzhela to continue. “The kid is Adonis – who doesn’t want to get in his pants?”

“I don’t believe that is-“

“We’re done talking about this,” Gabriel said, and Anzhela nodded. It wasn’t teasing, it was very much Gabriel asserting his right to command and control, and Anzhela knew not to act against his words. It was a command, and he was one of the original four; his words were to be obeyed, if he so wished. “And you don’t breathe a word of this to your siblings.” Anzhela pursed her lips and clenched her jaw, but nodded in response. She couldn’t disobey. It was physically impossible.

“So, they’re going on a hunt. What do we do?” The snap from the deeply powerful, dangerous archangel to mischievous, carefree – albeit volatile – Gabriel gave Anzhela metaphorical whiplash.

“Follow ‘em?” He suggested, and shrugged. “I dunno. See what the others think when they get back.” A lollipop appeared between his fingers, and Gabriel gave the red candy a little wave through the air before bringing it to his lips. Anzhela sighed, and turned back to the bunker view.

* * *

Castiel walked in, his cheeks flushed red from the cold air. There was something about the crispness to everything though, something about the bitterness of the wind that made the whole experience feel like something fresh and immense. Just relaxing, and seeing the beauty of creation, with the cold pangs stabbing across his vessel.

He wondered if he should even refer to the body as his vessel anymore. It had become so much a part of him and his image that Castiel almost felt as though the body was just an extension of himself. It could never be his own; it was Jimmy Novak’s body. But it was the closest he was ever going to get to his own body.

“Hey Cas,” Dean called as Castiel walked in. The two brothers were sat opposite across the table, and Sam was sliding his phone onto the table. The screen faded to black.

“So, get this,” he started. “Charlie hacked the system pretty easily. The fifth vic – Sim Towdy – has been bouncing around foster homes pretty much all his life. Take a guess at the biological dad.”

“Marty Crawford,” Dean replied, resting his head in his hands. “Guess we’ve got our link.”

“You’ve found a case?” Castiel said, pulling up one of the empty chairs.

“Yeah. Five disappearances over in Iowa, all connected with one guy who vanished a few years back,” Sam said. Castiel nodded.

“I doubt it’s demons – unless Marty has found a loop hole to escape deals, there would be no need to target him,” Castiel inputted. Sam tapped out a message on his phone, and slipped it back into his pocket.

“Charlie’s going to keep digging, see if she can dig up anything that might help.”

“Alright, we’ve got a case. We’ll head out in an hour,” Dean said, and they all fell into an old routine. A duffel bag each, filled with enough clothes to last a week, toiletry essentials and a gun. Dean always tucked the photo of him and Mary into the side pocket. Sam took reading materials – this time, _The Grand Grimoire_ was pushed snugly between the layers of clothes. Castiel simply lay his angel blade atop his possessions; his human time hadn’t wielded many physical memories yet, and the angel blade was still the most important sentimental object he owned.

They set off just past 3pm. Sam sat in the front, out of sheer habit. Castiel watched out of the window – no matter how long he spent on Earth, and how much he saw, it was all still so beautiful and incredible and fragile. Dean insisted on controlling the music. It was the same, standard classic rock he insisted on every time.

The hours ticked by, and during the journey, they stopped twice for toilet breaks. By 7pm, they’d crossed the border into Iowa. By 9pm, Castiel had drifted into a light sleep on the backseat. It was just after 10pm when they pulled into a rundown motel in Mason City, Iowa. It was called ‘Asphodel Rooms’; the lights for ‘Asp’ flickered under the strain of a long life and continual neglect.

Castiel chose to take a separate room, despite Sam and Dean offering him to stay with them. They did, at least, manage to get two neighbouring rooms, and with rushed words, they all retired for the night in painfully familiar uneven mattresses. The only blessing came in knowing decent beds awaited their return.

* * *

Gabriel watched them carefully. He took up the position the cupids had seemed frozen in over the last few days; his legs dangled over the physical edge of Heaven as he sat on the ledge. The red lollipop was still wedged between his fingers, hours later, and it looked completely untouched.

He already knew what they were hunting – the moment Dean had mentioned the case, curiosity took control and he visited Iowa.

It wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle, but it wasn’t an easy hunt either. He’d already made the decision to trail them, in case it went downhill.

Anzhela suspected he was being protective, but couldn’t verbalise her beliefs. She was right. More so than Gabriel had realised. The other cupids remained completely oblivious, caught up in excited conversation about oversized cakes and romantic musical numbers.

They’d all expressed distaste at Gabriel’s idea of leaving Castiel and the Winchesters alone for a few days, letting them believe the whole thing had been short lived. But the enthusiasm for the third step and the ideas it entailed easily made up for, so the cupids let it rest.

Gabriel watched over them with curiosity and amusement, and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that the scent of a potential plot??? Oooooh!
> 
> This is where I ask for your opinion - would you all rather me carry on and keep it happy go lucky and fluffy, or do you want a hint of plot in there (and probably actual Charlie appearance, and Gabriel being Archangel Gabriel and not Trickster Gabriel)?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. T minus 8 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean and Castiel get cracking on the case, whilst the cupids get cracking on preparing for step three.

The sun rose high in a cloudless sky that morning. The light flickered through the motel blinds in thin strips, painting the dusty red carpet with bright lines.

Sam rose almost as early, keeping up with his routine of taking a morning jog. Dean didn’t even notice the majority of the time; Dean was normally still asleep when Sam got back with two cups of coffee. Today was no different, except he carried three cups, and before going back into the motel room, his fist rapped sharply against Castiel’s door.

Within 10 minutes, they were all gathered in the one room, in various states of alertness. Half an hour later had Dean and Castiel in suits, slipping fake FBI pockets into the inside pockets of their jackets and holstering loaded guns. Castiel had the added extra of an angel blade strapped to his arm underneath the jacket. Sam had pointed out that three FBI agents was a little overkill, and the whole charade worked best with two. He’d wanted to hang back anyway, to research and see if anything else had popped up. With the short time lapses between the disappearances, it wouldn’t have been surprising to find something new.

When Dean and Castiel left for the local department, Sam showered. The tackiness of sweat was washed away, along with tensions stirred by the uncomfortable bed. He didn’t linger, scrubbing his hair with a dark blue towel till it was only damp. Pulling on a loose black top and jeans over his underwear, Sam opened the laptop.

The screen flickered to life, and the first page to open was the Wikipedia page on ‘Apotheosis’.

Sam knew he hadn’t opened it, Castiel hadn’t touched the laptop, and it didn’t look like Dean’s usual late night reading. With a spark of curiosity flaring up, he read on. Something about ultimate glorification of a mortal, to the point where they became divine. The page cited Heracles as a direct product of apotheosis, and mentioned Cleopatra and Achilles in passing – two prominent figures who’d had their names immortalized in history.

It didn’t seem relevant, but Sam bookmarked the page anyway. Given the recent happenings, he wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be more than useful.

He tapped out a quick ‘ _call me when u can_ ’ to Dean, and began to scour the local news websites.

* * *

Dean pulled the Impala door shut, and twisted the key in the ignition. Castiel sat beside him, his hands cupped loosely on his knees. The engine growled to life, and Dean frowned when the radio refused to make noise. He tapped it a few times to no avail, and sighed.

“Cas?” Dean said, and the former angel nodded, his hand hovering above the radio. Castiel’s face scrunched up in concentration as he probed the car radio. Dean pulled off the car park, making a mental note to fix the radio after they got back, when it blared to life.

Dean froze up, his eyes fixed on the radio.

_My mind’s telling me no._

“Oh, fuck no,” Dean said, glaring at the radio in a mixture of desperation and pure embarrassment.

_But my body, my body’s telling me yes._

“That… I didn’t do that,” Castiel said defensively, looking almost as affronted as Dean. Dean’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, as he flickered between looking at the radio and the road.

“Those sons of bitches… They messed with baby, Cas!” Dean growled out, trying to drown out the music. “She’s suffering!”

“Uh, let me try and shut it off,” Castiel replied, and pressed his hand against the radio. His whole body shook from the exertion of pushing his grace onto the offending object. Nothing happened. If anything, the music got a little louder. Castiel pulled away, his hand unstable. He shook his head, and tried the volume dial, which ended up being completely functionless.

“There’s something stopping me from tampering,” Castiel said, watching as Dean clenched his jaw whilst the chorus belted out. There was a light red flush growing on the hunter’s cheeks.

“Cupids?” Dean asked, through gritted teeth.

“No… Something more powerful,” Castiel replied, wearing a small apologetic smile. “I can’t tell what though.”

Dean just groaned, and decided to drive faster and endure. The rest of the playlist – ‘Candy Shop’, followed by ‘Body Party’ and ‘S&M’ – just made Dean press harder on the accelerator.

* * *

“We need an oven,” Vangelis said. He and Parasiel had just arrived back into Heaven, carrying four Walmart bags each. Gabriel has raised an eyebrow, but decided against questioning what they’d bought and why they’d bought whatever was in the bags.

“Any particular reason?” Gabriel asked, his attention passively shifting between the cupids sorting out their new acquisitions and the computer screen in front of him.

“You said there was gonna be a big cake, so we’re baking the big cake!” Haniel practically yelled, cradling a bag of self-rising flour.

“It’s more fun than you just snapping it up,” Parasiel added, Anzhela nodding from behind her.

Part of Gabriel screamed that giving the cupids a kitchen area was probably just going to lead to some kind of disaster; a much larger part of him argued back that if they were enjoying themselves cooking cake, they weren’t bugging him about the constant stream of innuendos packed into the romancing plan. Not that he could really call it a plan, if he was honest – it was degenerating into a string of embarrassing ideas to try and force Dean and Castiel to confront their feelings for each other.

Sighing, he snapped his fingers. Haniel’s excited squeal told him that the kitchen was definitely a bad idea.

Gabriel turned his attention back to the computer, scrolling through endless songs on YouTube. The return journey, he felt, would be better for cheesy music – maybe a little of James Blunt would help shift the post investigation mood towards romantic. Probably not, but possibly.

* * *

“Mrs Dess, I’m Special Agent Vedder, and this is my partner-“

“Special Agent Gossard.”

“Would you mind letting us take a look at the files on the recent disappearances?” Dean glanced over at Castiel, grinning and nodding in response to his persona, as they held out their badges for inspection.

“Of course – and call me Persephone,” the woman said, gesturing for them to follow. Her skin was a light olive tone, complimented by thick locks of brown hair trailing down her back and a strong jaw structure. With raised cheekbones, a sharp small chin, and almond shaped eyes framed with dark lashes, she looked more like a doll than a human.

Dean shook the thought out of his head, and followed her round to one of the side office rooms. She pulled out a few files, brimming with loose papers, and spread them out across the table.

“If you need anything, just give me a shout, boys,” she said cheerily, smile spread wide across her face. Dean nodded, smiling sweetly in response, whilst Castiel started to sift through the first file. “Would either of you like a drink?” Persephone added as an afterthought.

“I’m good, thanks,” Dean replied. Castiel didn’t even look up to shake his head, choosing to scan over the medical history of one of the victims.

Persephone’s sweet demeanor faltered momentarily, then she plastered on a wider grin. “No problem! I hope you find what you’re after,” she called back, walking out the door.

“Dude,” Dean muttered after she closed the door.

“What?”

“You just gave her the cold shoulder. The hell?” Castiel looked up and frowned in response.

“We’re here to do a job, Dean,” Castiel replied, sharp and blunt. “Yes, she was aesthetically appealing, but people may be dying.” Dean grumbled something about Castiel being a killjoy, and needing to lighten up a little, but set into one of the other files, flicking through the loose papers.

After a few minutes of digging, though, nothing even remotely bizarre had cropped up. His phone buzzed, and Dean pulled it out, reading the short message from Sam. He tapped the call icon flashing up the top, and lifted the phone to his ear.

* * *

Sam picked his phone up almost immediately. Partially because it was right next to him, and partially because for the last few days his ringtone had been set as ‘For Your Entertainment’, and he couldn’t change it no matter what.

“ _You got something?_ ”

“Yeah. Did you search a-poth-eo-sis last night?” Sam said, enunciating each syllable. He was still quite certain he was saying the word wrong.

“ _…No?_ ”

“Then I’ve got something which might be useful,” Sam said, and opened the bookmarked page. “The wiki page for apotheosis was already on the screen when I opened the laptop earlier.”

“ _You gonna tell me what it is, or keep dancing around?_ ”

“Alright, chill. Apotheosis is the act of raising a mortal to divine status, through glorification. It’s a term from the Ancient Greeks – think like Hercules.”

“ _That’s pretty weird. You think we might be dealing with Pagans then?_ ”

“Maybe, yeah,” Sam said. “I mean, the Apocalypse couldn’t have been good for their numbers – they might be trying to repopulate.”

“ _Where does Marty Crawford and the five vics come into this then?_ ”

Sam shrugged, even though he knew Dean couldn’t see the response. “I don’t know – haven’t found anything at all that could tie Marty to the Pagans. Still, if something opened this page, it wanted us to see it. Maybe the cupids are being helpful?”

“ _Yeah, like that’s possible. Might just be some dead end, Sam. Take it with a pinch of salt._ ”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam said, without conviction. He continued to scroll through the page again, glancing over the sections on Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome. “You found anything?”

“ _Not yet. I’ll call you back if we get something._ ”

Sam nodded, said “Okay,” and disconnected the call. He didn’t know why – call it gut instinct – but he was convinced the page was relevant. How, and why, he didn’t know, but Sam was more than certain that whatever was pulling at their strings wasn’t sending them on a wild goose chase. It seemed to enjoy toying with them too much to want them to end up dead. The thought came with a nostalgic sensation, and Sam brushed it away.

* * *

“How many tiers?”

“Three tiers.”

“Only three tiers, sister?”

“What about five tiers?”

“Ten tiers!”

“Han…”

“Is the room big enough for ten tiers?”

“We could ask Gabriel to make it bigger?”

“No, I mean the Earth room it needs to go to.”

“Gabriel could make that bigger too.”

“I think ten tiers is good. Humans always say bigger is better”

“… Han, I don’t think they’re talking about cakes then.”

So far, the cupids had made no actual move in making the cake, from what Gabriel could hear. At least Haniel had stopped suggesting a twenty tier cake – there was no way that wouldn’t end in a global catastrophe of some kind. Ten tiers seemed to be the settled number, and from the fragments of conversation he’d heard, it sounded like they’d sketched out the cake and had started planning the flavors.

“Remember the hole in the middle!” He shouted out. Not that he couldn’t fix it if they didn’t cook one in – it’d just be a waste of cake to have to dispose of so much. Dragging one last song across to the playlist entitled ‘Impala tunes lmao’, Gabriel felt a fizzle of smug satisfaction. He was fairly certain it would go down a little better than the earlier playlist, too.

The cursor hovered over play, waiting for the car engine to growl to life again.

* * *

Castiel had led the way out of the police department, averting his eyes when Persephone appeared. They uttered rushed words of gratitude and farewell, and said they’d probably be back within the next few days. Nothing at all had come up in the victim’s profiles above what they already knew, and it began to feel like they walking into a dead end.

Dean shuffled into the driver seat, holding his breath as he twisted the key in ignition. The radio jumped into life, and Dean almost sighed in relief. It still wasn’t his music, but it was better.

_I said, “Oh my, what a marvelous tune”._

It wasn’t quite classic rock, but the guilty pleasure, borderline cheesy pop was far less embarrassing than the sex fueled RnB anthems. The fact that it started with Taylor Swift was a bonus.

Castiel watched Dean try to suppress a small grin as he pulled into the road, and smiled in response.

‘Starlight’ faded into ‘Rhythm of Love’, which made an equally smooth transition into ‘Tip Toes’. They were all ridiculously cute, but it was better than embarrassing, and Dean wasn’t going to complain. Watching Castiel’s reaction to the sugar sprinkled melody lines and sickly sweet lyrics made it all the more worth it too. The former angel seemed encapsulated, grinning and occasionally tapping his foot offbeat to the song.

And if it felt like he was living a cliché romance film, as they drove down an empty road, edged by stretches of green landscape, to the tune of ‘Kiss Me’ by The Fray, well, Dean didn’t say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a small plot, but don't worry - it won't detract away from the fluff side or the humor, and might actually work to serve the story as a whole better.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and every comment means an extra tier on the cupid cake!


	7. T minus 7 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cupids get cooking, Castiel and Dean get questioning, and Sam gets reading. Nobody really makes any progress. Gabriel thinks it's a bit of a wasted day.

The beginning of the day was almost a carbon copy of the previous one – Sam went for his morning jog and brought back three cups of coffee to the motel room; Dean and Castiel pulled on suits, holstered weapons and left pretty quickly; Sam showered away aching muscles; they all set about digging into the case.

Two news tabs waited for Sam when he opened the laptop. One detailed the Greek afterlife, and the varying planes for souls to reside in. Reading through, ‘Asphodel Meadow’ cropped up – the afterlife for ordinary, indifferent souls. The motel sign flickered and mocked him from through the window, and it was with a growing sense of unease that Sam continued reading.

Right at the bottom was a short paragraph on ‘Elysian Fields’. Something nagged at the back of Sam’s mind – a faint hint of familiarity – and he glanced over the block of text. It was essentially the Greek Heaven; the resting place of the greatest, bravest souls. One little sentence caught his attention, describing how a soul in Elysian Fields could choose to be resurrected twice, and if they achieved Elysium each time, they would reside in the ultimate paradise of ‘Isles of the Blessed’.

Sam passively wondered whether or not there were more afterlife realms than just Heaven, Purgatory and Hell.

Clicking on the next window, Sam found a news article. A fresh disappearance over in Hastings, Nebraska. A woman called Sandra Martins, mid-thirties, married to a man called Cliff Martins.

Sam frowned. It seemed like a completely irrelevant story. He pulled out his phone, and flicked down the contacts list till his thumb landed on Charlie Bradbury. He tapped call, and waited through three repetitions of the dial tone before she picked up.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Hey, Charlie. You busy at the moment?”

“ _Not too busy for one of my favorite boys! What’s up, Sam?_ ”

“I’ve got a couple of names I need a rundown on – you game?” He tilted his head, pressing the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, and opened up a new tab. Clicking on the Google label, he typed out ‘Cliff Martins’ and hit search.

“ _Sure thing. Who do I need to go super spy on?_ ”

“Right, there’s Cliff Martins,” Sam paused, waiting till he heard Charlie make a noise to prompt him on. “And Marty Crawford. See if you can find any links between them, or anything that isn’t normal.”

“ _Got it. Any idea what you’re dealing with?_ ”

“Honestly? Not a clue,” Sam said, scrolling through the Google results. Nothing stood out, and there didn’t seem to be any pictures online. He tried narrowing the search by adding ‘Nebraska’ on the end. “Dean and Cas are out now, questioning families of the vics. The local department had nothing unusual, but…” Sam trailed off.

“ _But what?_ ”

“Something feels off, you know?” Sam said. “And… And I think something’s helping us, or trying to guide us down the right path. It’s being pretty cryptic – just opening up web pages – but I think there’s something going on here.”

“ _Huh._ ”

Sam frowned. “What?”

“ _Looks like Casper the friendly ghost likes you._ ”

Sam chuckled and shook his head, before looking back to the screen. Still nothing of note. “We’ll take all the help we can get – Casper or not.”

“ _Well, I’ve hit a dead end on the Mark – you boys in Iowa?_ ”

“Yeah, Mason City. You want me to put down a deposit on your room?”

“ _Nah, I’ll email ahead – text me the deets on the motel._ ”

“Okay, will do,” Sam said, and closed the Google tab with a resigned sigh. “You don’t need to come down if you don’t want, Charlie.”

“ _I’ve got nothing better to do, I still haven’t met your fluffy friend, and a friendly supernatural helper? Sounds like a riot down there, Sam._ ”

“Alright,” Sam said, laughing. “Alright fine, it’ll be nice having you around again.”

“ _You betcha it will. I’m the life and soul of the party._ ”

“Sure you are,” Sam replied teasingly.

“ _Alright_ ,” Charlie said, dragging out the vowel sound. “ _Me and my handy hacking skills should be with you by night fall._ ”

“See you soon then, Charlie,” Sam said, grinning.

“ _Ciao, bitch._ ”

The line fell silent, and Sam shook his head, smiling. He tapped out a short message to Charlie – ‘asphodel motel, on the outskirts of mason town’ – and then to Dean – 'charlie’s on her way down to help’ – before pulling out _The Grand Grimoire_. With Charlie’s aid, Sam reasoned that they’d make progress much quicker from here on, and that they still had the pressing issue of the Mark of Cain to deal with.

* * *

Dean and Castiel climbed out of the Impala, almost in sync, in front of Sim Towdy’s current foster home – Mr and Mrs Rosterfield’s house. The car radio hadn’t functioned at all on the drive down, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was relieved, disappointed or annoyed. It was one thing to have it messed with, but another thing entirely to have it broken.

A few sharp knocks on the front door later, a small lady with short grey hair opened the door. Dean held his badge out and said, “I’m Special Agent Vedder, and this is my partner Special Agent Gossard. We’d like to ask you a few questions about Sim Towdy, if you don’t mind.”

The short lady nodded feverishly as she twisted round and called out “Jim! There are some gentlemen here to ask questions,” then turned back to them and said, “Would you like to come in?”

Dean stepped into the threshold of the house, trailed by Castiel who shut the door, and followed the woman into the living room, where she gestured for them to sit down. Dean complied, relaxing into a brown leather sofa; Castiel sat with a stiff posture.

A taller man, slightly older looking than the lady – Jim, Dean guessed – came into the room soon after, and took his place next to the short woman. “How can we help you?” He said, his voice bearing a little hostility. Dean figured that they’d already been through this whole procedure countless times over the last few weeks, so decided not to prolong it.

“How long has Sim been in your care?” Dean asked, and Castiel pulled out a small notepad from his jacket.

“Around five months now,” Jim said bluntly. Castiel scribbled it down. “I’ve already told your type everything.”

“Just fact-checking,” Dean replied. “We need to make sure everything we have is accurate. And you were the ones who reported him missing?”

The short lady nodded. “Yes – Sim was never late. Sim was always, always right. So when he wasn’t home from school at 5pm, we called the police. They told us we were worrying over nothing, that he was probably just late like every teenager. But Sim was never late, Agent.”

“Was Sim behaving differently before going missing?” Dean asked, watching as Castiel wrote down what the woman said, almost word for word. His writing was strangely quick – Dean figured it was just an angel thing.

“No, Agent. It’s not like he’d run away or anything,” the short lady said, Jim bringing his hand to rest in a soft grip on her shoulder. She turned and smiled gently up at him. “Sim liked it here.”

Dean nodded, and smiled sympathetically. “You don’t know of anyone who disliked Sim, do you? Even just someone he clashed with at school?”

The couple shook their heads, almost in sync, and Dean sighed. He’d expected as much.

“Alright,” he said, handing them a small card from the inside of his jacket. “Call me if anything comes up.” Dean only realized that the slip he’d handed them wasn’t quite the normal one when the old lady covered a shocked gasp with her hand, eyes wide. He snatched it back, glanced over it, and promptly tore it to pieces.

 _Special Agent Completely-Hetero Totally-In-Denial_  
Call me at 0121 696 9696 for a good boning  
"No Homo”

“Apologies for that,” Dean growled out through gritted teeth, surveying the new card he’d pulled out carefully before handing it over. “I’ll be having a word when I get back to office.”

“Of course, Agent,” the lady said shakily as she guided them out of the house, and closed the door after them. By the time Dean and Castiel were back in the Impala, Dean was cursing out a string of swear words and insults.

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked, almost cautious.

Dean paused, biting down on the insides of his cheeks. “Yeah. I’m just pissed,” he said, twisting the key as the Impala’s engine revved. The radio, apparently, felt a little more lively now. A series of “ah”s, over a bad synth melody, and Dean knew that tune. He couldn’t figure out what it was, but he knew that tune.

_Seven am waking up in the morning._

Dean let his head fall forward onto the steering wheel with a groan, the horn blaring out loud. “Dean?”

_Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs._

Dean looked up at Castiel, eyes innocent and wide and hopeless. “It’s not even Friday. It’s not even fucking Friday.”

* * *

The floor was covered in flour, and icing, and egg shells, and swirls of red and green and blue and black from food coloring. A lumpy grey ball of what Gabriel could only hope to be fondant rolled out of the kitchen doorway.

He’d been out for an hour. _An hour_. He just wanted to stretch his wings and fully let go, let the full extent of his grace crackle and burn through the air for the first time in centuries. It was safe to do so, finally, with the Knights dead and his siblings either fallen or dead. That wasn’t something he enjoyed dwelling on for too long. But to let his wings unfold and block out the sun, and stretch the muscles he’d ignored through years of neglect – it felt like bliss.

Gabriel wasn’t entirely surprised to come back to the contained culinary disaster, if he was honest. Peering around the doorway, he saw that only one tier of the cake had been cooked, and it took up the majority of the floor space. Anzhela’s apron was several interesting shades of pink, whilst Haniel looked like he’d rolled in the cake batter. Parasiel was stirring an over sized bowl full of sandy brown goop aggressively, and Vangelis sat on the counter, watching them all with passive interest.

“You kids having fun?” He asked tentatively.

“You’re back, brother!” Haniel cheered, and Gabriel braced himself as the chubby, short cupid stumbled towards him, arms spread. The sticky cake mix managed to move almost entirely from Haniel to Gabriel’s clothes, spreading over his jeans and his cargo jacket.

“I’m back,” Gabriel said, as the cupid let go of him. “And now, I look like a criminally undercooked cake.” Vangelis snorted, grinning, and Haniel flushed, looking down.

“Sorry, brother.” Gabriel clicked his fingers, clearing the mess as Haniel flushed.

“Brother, what flavor do you want the cake to be?” Parasiel asked, looking at him as though she’d just asked for the answer to life.

“Surprise me. Get creative, kiddo,” Gabriel replied nonchalantly, then frowned. “Actually, don’t get creative. That probably won’t end well. Stick to things like chocolate, vanilla, sausage, the standard.”

Anzhela looked up, confused. “Sausage?”

“Subtle hinting, bucko.”

She continued to look confused, but dismissed it, and carried on mixing the icing. Gabriel wasn’t entirely certain why she was mixing icing when they’d only made one tier out of ten so far, but he wasn’t about to question her either.

Walking back out of the kitchen, his attention flickered over the gaping hole. Sam was sat, cradling that damned book in his lap. Gabriel thought Michael had ordered the destruction of every copy outside of the Vatican, but apparently not. Dean and Castiel were sat in a different house, with different people, spouting out variations of the same questions. A new section of reality had blurred into the jigsaw image too – Charlie Bradbury, driving along in a yellow car. Her laptop sat in the front passenger seat, trawling through all the local databases she could think of.

Given the reaction the last playlist of cheesy love songs had drawn from both Dean and Castiel, Gabriel decided to rehash the old idea, setting out with the intention of finding cheesier songs.

* * *

“We’re not getting anywhere, damn it.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder gently. “Look at me. We’ll figure everything out, okay?”

“I know. I know we will,” Dean replied, pinching the bridge of his nose as he slouched back into the leather driver’s seat. “It’s just, it’s aggravating, and this thing is a time bomb. I was serious about what I said before.” Castiel knew what Dean was alluding to without him expanding.

“And I was serious about us finding a way to remove the Mark.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean laughed, bitter and vaguely pathetic.

Dean started the Impala when Castiel didn’t reply. He was vaguely relieved when, instead of the atrocities of ‘Friday’ and ‘Call Me Maybe’ that had haunted him all day, the music had changed back to soppy love songs. The soft guitar strum of ‘All About Us’ was soothing, and it managed to rub his tension down slowly. He didn’t drive away – not yet.

_Eyes on you, eyes on me. We’re doing this right._

Dean looked across at Castiel and met his gaze. He smiled weakly, and dropped his gaze down. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap,” he said quietly. “I just don’t know what to do, and I don’t deserve you, and Sam, and Charlie. I don’t deserve help.”

_Spotlight’s shining, it’s all about us._

“Don’t apologize,” Castiel said. He had to stop himself from lifting Dean’s chin gently, bringing their eyes to meet again. “You do deserve help, Dean. You deserve help, and you… you deserve to be loved.”

Dean raised his eyes and swallowed nervously. He sighed, self-deprecating, and smiled sympathetically, the corners of his mouth not quite curving the way they should. “Yeah,” he said. “I wish.”

Castiel dropped his hand, and Dean turned away. Pressed his foot down on the accelerator. Tried his best to block out the songs that filled the static air between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did intend to finish this with a little Charlie and Sam interaction, but to turn this around on time that had to be cut, so expect a fair bit of Charlie figuring out exactly what the hell is going on, and Sam being slightly in awe.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Also, a little game this time - if anyone manages to guess what's going down in Mason Town (aka what case the boys are all working), gold star and a oneshot for you! There's some in your face hints, and a few subtle hints floating around.


	8. T minus 6 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun times ~~~~~

It was just before 7 am when Sam was pulling on his vest and shorts, ready for his morning jog. He bent over, feeling the slight pull up the back of his legs lessen as his fingers gripped the front of his trainers.

There was a soft rhythm of taps, and on instinct, Sam grabbed the gun from under his pillow before moving over the motel door. They weren’t expecting anyone, especially not this early, so he flipped the safety off the gun and opened the door slowly. Charlie bounced through the door, carrying four cups of coffee in a cardboard cup holder. She didn’t even notice the gun as Sam put the safety back on and lay it to rest on the side.

“Good morning!” She chirped out in a loud, sing-song voice, placing the cups on the small coffee table. Dean stirred under the duvet, mumbling something. “Rise and shine, sleepy head.” Dean lifted his handed and flipped her off. Sam laughed, and picked up the cup with his name scribbled on the side.

“How do you know what coffee we have?”

“Read all the books, and the unpublished manuscripts, remember?” Charlie said, tapping her temple and shrugging. “I know you boys like Hermoine knows magic.”

“I’ll go get Cas up, if we’re starting early,” Sam said. He looked over at Dean, and continued, “You can deal with Sleeping Beauty over there.” Dean muttered something into the pillow again, and rolled over.

“I always thought he was a bit more of a Rapunzel,” Charlie countered with a grin, and sat down, grabbing her own cup out of the holder. Sam left with a deep chuckle. Ten minutes of knocking and grumbling later, they were all in the same room.

Charlie watched Castiel as he walked through the doorway, looking between him and Dean with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk. His hair was still sticking in seven different ways, much akin to Dean’s, and he took seat on Dean’s bed next to the hunter.

“Are they…” Charlie started. Sam coughed deliberately, drawing a line across his throat and shaking his head. “Okay.”

“You got anything for us?” Dean said, his voice rough and groggy. Charlie shrugged her backpack off, and pulled her laptop out, opening it up.

“Yeah, there's a link between Marty Crawford and Cliff Martins – it’s not much, but something.” She doubled clicked, furrowing her brow in concentration, then spun the laptop around. “This is a business contract. Three years ago, just before Marty disappeared, he signed over ownership of his business, Khronos Clocks, to Cliff.”

“Why are we investigating Cliff Martins?” Castiel inputted, frowning.

“Oh,” Sam said. “Right. Yesterday, there were two new tabs left open – like the ‘Apotheosis’ thing. There was another disappearance over in Nebraska, and it seemed irrelevant, so I asked Charlie to check it before I brought it up.”

“So, I’m thinking that Marty Crawford didn’t disappear – he just changed name and got the hell out of Dodge,” Dean said.

“You think he was running from this thing that’s picking off all his connections now then?” Sam asked, and Charlie nodded.

“Wait a second, what was the business called?” Dean asked, frowning.

“Uh, Khronos Clocks,” Charlie replied. Her gaze flitted between Sam and Dean as they almost mirrored each other in realisation.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“That was what, three years ago, Sam?” Sam nodded at Dean.

“What was?” Castiel pressed, a little more insistent than before.

“That we killed Chronos,” Sam said.

“So, you think this Marty is connected to Chronos,” Charlie said slowly, and Sam nodded. “But, how?”

“Don’t know,” Sam replied as Dean took a drink from his cup. “But we need to get to Marty-Cliff-whatever before the Pagans do. Maybe we’ll get some more answers then.”

“Alright, me and Cas will go down the department, just clear up and check nothing new has come through,” Dean said. "We'll head out to Nebraska if everything's good." Castiel stood up and grabbed his coffee cup, starting for the door.

“We’ll clear up back here, see if we can pull up anything new,” Sam replied, and the slamming door was the only answer he got. He turned around to Charlie grinning at him.

“Alright, c’mon, fill me in. What’s up with Dean and Cas? And what’s going on with Casper?” Sam chuckled in response, shaking his head.

“It’s a long story,” Sam replied, and Charlie raised her eyebrows.

“We’ve got time.”

* * *

“But we’ve got no butter!” Haniel wailed. The cupids had managed to bake another two tiers of the cake and were making the mix for the fourth tier when they hit the snag. They had proudly informed Gabriel that one tier was in fact sausage flavored.

“If you shut up, you get all the butter you want,” Gabriel replied. This was the worst idea he’d ever had. By far. The cupids were beyond unbearable, and everything would have ran smoother if he’d just carried out the plan on his own. There would be no-one to reign in his innuendos either. He’d taken pity on them, moping around; Gabriel almost wished he’d left them to wallow in romcoms sometimes.

“Really?” Haniel responded, perking up. Gabriel nodded, and lifted his hand to click when the cupid grabbed his wrist. “No clicking! That’s cheating!”

“What?”

“You’ve got to go and buy the butter, brother!”

Gabriel stared at him incredulously, squinting. “Are you serious?” He said, and Haniel nodded aggressively, still gripping his wrist.

“If you click the butter up, it means you haven’t put your heart into getting it. And this cake is born of hard work and emotions and love,” Haniel said, stressing the last word. He looked so certain in himself, and Gabriel could only stare.

“Will you zip it if I go buy some butter?” Gabriel asked coldly, and Haniel nodded with a big smile spreading across his face.

“Yes! Thank you brother!” Haniel said, and lunged forward. Gabriel managed to dodge the hug and left the little corner of Heaven as the cupid stumbled over onto his face.

* * *

“So this thing has been trying to play matchmaker with Dean and Castiel, whilst being helpful, and kinda sweet to you?” Charlie asked, and Sam nodded.

“Yeah. I mean, we have no idea what we’re dealing with,” Sam replied. “This thing has cupids helping it – it was powerful enough to restore them too. That doesn’t leave many options.”

“You never do it by halves, do you? Pagans and some supernatural helper, at the same time.”

Sam forced a smile and nodded. “Don’t get me wrong – without the help, we’d still be running in circles. It’s just annoying not knowing if we should be worrying.”

“I think if the cupids trust it, and it’s only been helpful so far, you’re in the clear,” Charlie replied. “I’m sure it’ll reveal itself soon enough.”

“I hope so. I’d like to say thanks, and Dean’d probably want to land a punch.” Charlie laughed. “You good to help with packing everything up?”

“Yep! Not quite the adventure I was hoping for, but it’s something,” Charlie responded with a grin, and stood up. “You want me to just shove Dean’s stuff into the bag?”

“Yeah, just cram everything into the duffel,” Sam said, gesturing to the bag sat at the end of Dean’s bed. Charlie pulled it up on to the bed, and started folding the loose clothes up and tossing them in. The book Sam had picked up caught her eye, and she almost gasped when she read the title.

“Is that the actual…”

“It’s a copy, but it’s real.”

Charlie let out a whistle, impressed. “You realize what that thing is, right?”

“The supposed writings of Lucifer himself. Yeah.”

“You think he actually wrote it?”

“Well, he never brought it up when we were together.”

Charlie winced, and went back to packing Dean’s things away. Her fingers brushed against something in the side-pocket, the light hitting it. Charlie lifted it a little out curiosity, and promptly let go when she realized it was a photo. It felt private, and she didn’t want to pry.

Sam picked up a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt, and went into the bathroom. Charlie had finished putting all Dean’s clothes in the bag when Sam re-emerged, changed out of his running clothes. He shoved the shorts and vest top down the side of the bag, and pulled the zip around the bag when a knock came on the door.

“That was quick,” he muttered, walking over to the door.

Sam opened the door. A man in a suit stood outside – he held out a dark black hand. “What the-“

“Mr Hayden Dess.”

Sam frowned, and made to grab his gun from the side when the man grabbed his wrist. It was a cold grip.

“But you can just call me Hades.” The man pulled a gun from the holster round his waist, and brought the butt of the gun hard down on Sam’s forehead. The hunter fell, and Hades let go, letting him fall to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Charlie ran round the side of the bed and lunged for Sam’s gun. Hades noticed, and with an outstretched hand, knocked her backwards into the motel wall. Her head hit hard again the wall, and her eyes shut as she collapsed to the floor.

* * *

“Funny you should ask. There has been a development,” Persephone said. Her movements gave the impression of gliding as she led Dean and Castiel into the office. “Mr Dess should be back soon – he’s leading this investigation.”

“Mr Dess, as in-“ Dean started, filling the quiet with small talk.

“My husband, yes,” Persephone replied, smiling. She opened the office door, and gestured for them to go inside. Dean and Castiel complied, and Persephone stood by the door. “Would you like something to drink whilst you wait?” She asked politely, smiling.

“Uh, sure. I’ll have a coffee, black, and my partner-“

“The same, please,” Castiel interrupted, and Persephone nodded, leaving the room.

“Looks like our luck is finally changing, huh?” Dean said, with a bounce in his voice. His hand lay out on the desk, tapping out a constant rhythm. Castiel watched his fingers, and noticed how deftly and smoothly they moved.

“Maybe this case will be wrapped up with minimal damage for once,” Castiel replied, looking across at Dean. The hunter sighed in response, speeding up the rhythm his fingers tapped out.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Good morning, agents. I’m glad to finally meet you,” Hades said, walking into the office. “Sorry I couldn’t speak with you straight away – we had a rather emotional witness to a crash in just.”

“I’m sorry to hear,” Dean replied, and held his hand out. “Special Agent Vedder, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Hades gripped Dean’s hand tight and shook; Hades was like ice to touch.

“Special Agent Gossard,” Castiel said, shaking Hades’ hand tight. He almost recoiled at the cold skin. Castiel watched Hades with suspicion. He was almost grateful when Persephone lay the hot polystyrene cups in front on them. Castiel wrapped his hands around them, and brought the cup to his lips. He watched Dean do the same, taking a much longer drink and bringing the cup down with a slight thud on the desk.

“It truly is nice to finally meet you. To put faces to the ones who murdered so many of my kin,” Hades said. Dean felt himself tense, and made to grab his gun from the holster. His limbs moved too slowly; they were sluggish, and barely responsive to what he wanted them to do. Looking across, Castiel didn’t seem to be in a much better state. “Dean Winchester and Castiel. The villains in the stories we tell to our children.

“Of course, there’s your brother too. Little Sam Winchester. We’ve already had the pleasure of making acquaintance,” Hades said. He stood and walked round to behind Castiel and Dean’s seats, draping his arms over the backs of their chairs. Dean tried to threaten him, but it was slurred, and he could feel consciousness drifting away. He could hear Castiel faintly calling his name.

“All we want to do is repopulate our family. You’d do the same, if you lost loved ones,” Persephone said, rounding the desk and crouching so she could look them both in the eye. “We wanted to bring our numbers back, then you three waltzed in. As if we were going to sidestep the chance to remove the main threat to our family’s continued existence.”

“Dean?” It was weak, and Dean tried to cling to it. Tried to hold on as best he could, and fight off the black framing his vision. And yet it kept driving forward, unrelenting, and his head dropped forward.

“We’d anticipated you being an issue, Castiel,” Hades murmured to him, clapping him on the shoulder. Castiel try to shrug the hand off, to move away and fight back the drowsiness and get Dean out of there, but he couldn’t. It was overwhelming what little grace he had.

Persephone opened up a drawer in the desk, and pulled out a syringe. It was filled with a clear liquid. Castiel tried to shuffle away as she walked around, smiling as innocently as ever. Hades gripped the side of Castiel’s head and pulled it over, baring his neck.

“Right here, darling,” Hades purred out, and Castiel felt the pinch on his neck as Persephone pressed the needle in.

The darkness hit like a tidal wave.

* * *

Gabriel was wandering aimlessly down the sweets aisle when he saw Anzhela stalking towards him. He hadn’t walked Earth for a long time, and the errand meant time away from the destructive cupids. Gabriel was just dragging the trip out.

The sun was down outside, he’d been in the supermarket for at least ten hours. Maybe more. He didn’t really care.

So when he first noticed Anzhela, he presumed Haniel had just kicked off about the lack of butter, and she was her to hurry him. He also noticed just how tall her vessel was – _seriously kid, did you take Naomi Campbell as a vessel?_ – before he noticed how tense she was.

“What’s up, bucko?” He asked, tossing six packs of sour strawberry laces in the basket. He already had twelve tubs of butter, so why not confuse the cashier even more.

“Brother,” she said, and she sounded confused. Scared, even. Gabriel felt the cold bite of his blade against his arm, materializing on the inside of his sleeve.

“What’s wrong?” Gabriel asked again, in a much less jovial tone of the voice. If he’d dropped the basket to accommodate for the blade, he hadn’t noticed. Anzhela noticed the blade and shook her head quickly. It vanished within an instant, but Gabriel could still feel his fingers gripping the ghost of it.

“You need to come back to Heaven,” Anzhela replied. “Please.”

Gabriel didn't respond; he just nodded. The two angels vanished from the sweet aisle of the supermarket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops? Maybe?


	9. T minus 5 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Action~

“You with me, kid?”

Charlie groaned, rousing to a tight grip on her shoulders. Everything around her felt soft and silky. She lifted her head slowly, and blinked her eyes open. The light struck her head, made something in her head pound hard, and she doubled over.

“You want me to clear that up?”

Charlie nodded, gritting her teeth. She swallowed down the queasiness rising in her throat. Two fingers pressed hard against her forehead, and in a surge of heat, it was all gone. Charlie looked up, blinking, and took in the room around her.

It was a far cry from the motel room. Golden silk curtains framed a towering paned window. She was sat on a bed, surrounded by cushions of every color. There was a runner across the bottom of the bed – which she’d guessed was at least a King size. It was embroidered with fine gold thread, painting a story of a serpent, a wolf, a girl and a man.

“You like it?” Charlie froze, and looked to the man kneeling at her side.

“Who are you?” She asked, shuffling back into the cushions. “How did you do that?”

He smirked. “Gabriel.”

Charlie froze, wide eyed. “Wait, as in the Gabriel who moonlighted as Loki?” The runner on the bed made a lot more sense. “The Gabriel who died?”

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“But… you died,” Charlie said.

“You’re not really one to counter resurrection, bucko.”

“Good point.”

Charlie paused for a moment, taking it all in. She was sat in a carbon copy of a Hilton room, next to an archangel, and Sam-

"Hades took Sam,” she blurted out.

“And Dean. And Cassie,” Gabriel added. Charlie watched him wide eyed, then shuffled off the bed. She grabbed his wrist, trying to drag him with her.

“C’mon, we need to help!” Charlie yelled at him when he didn’t budge. Gabriel slid off the bed and walked around the bed, leading her out the door.

“Which is why you’re here,” he said as they walked down a corridor. It was a painful leisurely pace, until Gabriel stopped in front of an insignificant looking oak door. “I need you to narrow down where they could be. Everything I could think of is in there – if you need anything else, just say the word, bucko.”

He twisted the door handle, letting the door swing open as Charlie peered inside. She took in a sharp breath of shock and awe. In the center was the largest monitor she’d ever seen, connected up to multiple computers and processors. The thing had a touch screen. There were a few devices Charlie didn’t even recognize.

“Uh, an iced vanilla latte? It might help my productivity?” Charlie said, shrugging. Gabriel clicked, and three appeared next to the monitor. “I’m guessing they’ve used sigils to ward it?”

“Looks like it – I can’t see any of ‘em.”

“So, what? Foot search till you find them?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Nah, if we can narrow it down long enough, I should be able to get a rough grasp on Castiel’s grace. Just need him to draw my sigil – they’ll only ward against normal angels. Summoning me would give us a straight path in. Failing that, I'll need an exact address.”

“Okay, give me… An hour tops,” Charlie said, walking over to the leather chair and collapsing into it. She spun the chair round to face Gabriel. “I’ll get you a place.”

Charlie got to work, her fingers tapping away. She pulled up a map, drawing a square across the possible area. She ruled out them still being in Iowa – it was too simple – and focused on Nebraska. Pulling up the addresses of Khronos Clocks and Marty Crawford’s home, Charlie flagged them on the map. She dropped the search range to a 15 mile radius around the two locations. Marty was the target, and Charlie reasoned it’d probably be within the vicinity.

Gabriel had sat down on the floor, his back resting up against the wall. His eyes closed. To an outside observer, he was doing nothing. On the contrary, Gabriel had extended himself over the entirety of Iowa and Nebraska; if there was a spike in grace, he would know. Gabriel knew it was a long shot, given how weak Castiel was, but it was worth a try.

Charlie moved onto pulling up all the street names that lay within the set perimeters. After a few minutes of trying to break through the encryption by force, Charlie was into the property database for the state of Nebraska. She drew out the details of each property that lay on one of the streets, and compiled it all into a new database.

Combing through, she deleted all the housing addresses. After almost half an hour, Charlie had compiled a list of all the non-housing properties in the 15 mile radius.

“How’re Pagans with clichés? Like, abandoned factories, all the sort?”

“They get off on clichés, kid. Love ‘em,” Gabriel responded, still as a statue. Charlie wasn’t even certain she’d seen his mouth move.

It took ten more minutes for her to remove all properties in active use, and weed out a few lingering housing addresses. It left three addresses, all of which lay towards the outside of the perimeter. Nothing promising, then.

“Gabe?” The archangel looked up in response. “I’ve got some – doesn’t look promising, but it’s worth a shot.” Gabriel pushed himself up, walking to just behind Charlie’s chair. He lingered over the addresses briefly, and he vanished. Barely five seconds had passed when he was back, shaking his head.

“None of those. Have you checked out who the leases are signed under?”

“No – gimme a second.” Charlie flicked back to the database listing all the addresses, and hit the control key and the f key. She tapped out ‘Persephone Dess’ and ‘Hayden Dess’, both of which yielded no results. She gritted her teeth, feeling the annoyance at being unable to produce anything building in her. ‘Charles Martin’ only brought up the private household and the ‘Khronos Clocks’ factory. Gabriel had already checked them both thoroughly.

“You keep looking – guess I’m going to have to foot search,” Gabriel said, his voice impatient and vaguely concerned. He clicked, and a phone appeared next to Charlie. “Call me if you get anything.”

Charlie nodded, and Gabriel vanished again. Taking a mouthful of iced vanilla latte, Charlie decided to Google based off a hunch. The Greek gods had different names in the Roman period, she’d remembered from on the role plays she’d taken part in. Learning that Zeus and Jupiter were essentially the same god in two different eras had come as a surprise. She wondered if the concept applied to Hades and Persephone.

She opened up the wiki pages of Hades and Persephone and scribbled down ‘Prosperpina’, ‘Orcus’, ‘Pluto’ and ‘Dispater’. Trying the original names yielded no results, so Charlie began to brainstorm out alternatives. She’d figured ‘Dispater’ was the easiest to play upon with a first name Peter. Typing it in, there were too many results for 'Peter' to individually browse.

The phone besides her buzzed, the screen lighting up.

_From: Gabriel  
on sands street, not far from downtown hastings. can feel cas, but he’s unresponsive._

Charlie dropped the perimeter to 5 miles around Sands Street. The list dropped to seven properties owned by a Peter. One of which was co-signed by Peter Dess and Perrie Dess. Ironically, it was a previously a crematorium, and was listed as under renovation. The down payment had been made three days ago.

She hit call on the phone, and lifted it to her ear. Gabriel picked up almost immediately.

“ _You got something, kid?_ ”

“Yep,” Charlie replied. “And I’m pretty certain. Just over a mile from Sands Street, there’s an old building that used to be Hastings Crematorium. Co-purchased three days ago by a “Peter Dess” and a “Perrie Dess”.”

“ _Sounds like them – what’s the address?_ ”

“Number twelve, Lily Road. If you-“

“ _I’m there, and it feels like the building is hissing at me. Great job, kiddo._ ”

“Just… Be careful, yeah?”

Charlie heard a bitter laugh on the other end of the line. “ _There ain’t no fun in careful, bucko._ ”

Before Charlie could respond, Gabriel disconnected. She was left to just wait, and hope.

* * *

Sam was the first to stir. There was a pounding hammering away at the front of his skull, and he groaned. Slowly, his memory began to trickle back: Dean and Castiel leaving; packing up with Charlie; Hades-

His head jolted up, eyes opening, and Sam regretted that movement almost immediately. The hammering increased almost tenfold, his vision becoming fuzzy and blurred. He blinked a few times, the outline of a figure approaching him gradually becoming clearer. Sam went to take a step back, but his back was pressed up against a stone pillar.

He went to grab his gun, frustrated when his arms wouldn’t comply. A gentle twisting of his wrists told him that they were bound by rope. Not tightly – loose enough that given enough time, he’d be able to work his way out of them. Which meant the gods had either underestimated them, or they didn’t intend for them to have enough time to escape the bonds. Sam felt like it was probably the latter.

To his right, he noticed, was a staircase. Twisting his head slowly left, he saw Dean and Castiel, in a similar situation, but still unconscious. Neither one of them looked close to rousing. “Fuck,” Sam muttered, and straightened to face to figure approaching him.

“Good afternoon, Sam,” the voice – Hades – said. The man stepped from the shadow into the poor light. Sam swallowed nervously when he noticed the suit was covered with an apron. “It’s nice of you join us. Shame those two haven’t woken yet.”

“What do you want?”

“You’re curious about your case, even now?”

“Yes,” Sam replied. It was only a half lie; part of him was genuinely intrigued by what Hades and Persephone were doing, and part of him was stalling. There was a distinct lack of Charlie in the room. Sam reasoned that because she’d never been involved with pagans before, they weren’t interested in her and had hopefully left her be. Which meant Charlie was their best shot at getting out alive. He just needed to give her time – if anyone could track them down, Charlie could.

Part of him was hoping that the thing that had taken an interest in them found them too enjoyable to let die. That once was a bit of a stretch, but stranger things had happened in Sam’s lifetime.

“Our numbers have been dwindling recently, courtesy of you hunters,” Hades said. His tone was bitter but polite. “Chronos was an important god in our pantheon – he ensured time ran with regularity inside of our realms. When you and your brother slaughtered him-“

“He was killing innocent people,” Sam protested. Hades glared at him.

“When you and your brother slaughtered him,” Hades repeated, a little sharper than before. “Time lost its linear flow. We needed a god to dictate time, so the obvious solution was to look to Chronos’ offspring.”

“Marty is a demi-god?”

“Correct. And Marty didn’t stray far from his father’s work.”

“So, you planned to raise Marty to divinity? What’s with the disappearances then?” Hades smiled, and Sam found it unnerving.

“To let Marty undergo apotheosis, we needed to sever Marty’s ties with the mortal realm.”

“You’re going to kill them all,” Sam spat out, disgusted. Persephone emerged behind Hades, carrying a small briefcase. Given the apron, Sam decided he didn’t want to imagine what was inside the case.

“We prefer the term sacrifice,” Persephone responded, her voice soft and gentle. “It is required to complete the process, Sam. We’re taking down two birds with one stone, as you mortals say, and combining the sacrifice with cutting the ties. Less casualties that way.”

“And Marty has agreed to this?”

“Why wouldn’t Marty agree? We’re offering him a place in Olympus, and complete immortality,” Persephone responded. She handed the case to Hades, who crouched beside it on the floor.

“It’d just be polite to ask, I guess.” Sam mentally kicked himself. It was a life or death situation, and he was lecturing pagan gods on manners and etiquette. Hades clicked the case open to reveal an assortment of knives. Sam took a deep breath in, and willed Charlie – with back up of course – to be at the top of the stairs. Hades lingered over the case till he picked something akin to a scalpel, with ivy patterns weaving down the handle.

“I’ll tell you what’s not polite,” Hades said, glancing across at Dean and Castiel. “Those two not joining us. That might be our fault though – it’s hard to know what dosage is right for each system.”

“You drugged them?” Sam said, his voice low and laced with disgust.

“Much more reliable than a strike to the head,” Hades replied, standing up in front of him. The blade slid under the lip of the top of Sam’s shirt, sending the first three buttons bouncing to the ground. “Maybe you could make a little noise to wake them?”

The scalpel touched against the bare skin of Sam’s chest, drawing a thin, cold line. He hissed under his breath, glaring down at Hades.

“Looks like we’ve got a tough cookie here darling,” Persephone commented, watching in amusement. “Maybe a little deeper?”

Hades drew another vertical line of red, pressing a little harder as he ran it across skin. Sam clenched his jaw, suppressing the majority of the urge to yell, but a small whimper still escaped his lips. Hades frowned. He was lining the silver blade up for a third laceration when a new voice and an excess of banging entered the whole situation.

“Really, guys? Human sacrifice? Are we still living in the stone age?”

Sam froze, turning to the figure that practically waltzed down the stairs. It clicked, and his lips were sealed shut.

“Hermes? It’s been a long time,” Persephone replied, torn between smiling and frowning at the intruder.

“You were never keen on human sacrifice anyway,” Hades commented bitterly. The scalpel flipped out of his hand and buried itself in his forehead. Hades rolled his eyes and pulled the blade out; the wound knitted itself back together. “Really? That’s not even amusing. Have you grown up so little?”

“I’d say it’s you who hasn’t grown up – still practicing these medieval rituals,” Hermes snarked back. Sam watched as he walked into the dim light and confirmed his identity. Gabriel. Of course it was Gabriel. The last week had Gabriel written all over it. Sam let out a breath of relief.

“You don’t understand, Hermes. You haven’t seen the chaos these three have caused!” Persephone retorted, growing louder. She radiated power and almost-anger, and still paled in comparison to Gabriel. "They have the blood of our kin on their hands!"

"Oh, trust me, bucko, I know. And I have seen their chaos,” he replied, moving closer to the goddess. “Seen it, played a hand in it, fallen victim to it.”

“Then why are you here, defending them?” Hades asked, losing interest in Sam. He paced the room to Persephone, flanking her.

“Shits and giggles?” Gabriel offered up, shrugging. “Look, you’ve got a choice here. You stop what you’re doing, with them and with Marty, and trot along like good little pagans.”

“Or?”

“Or I stop you.” It was cold and blunt.

Hades laughed, and Persephone cracked a wide smile. “You?” She said mockingly. “You’ll stop us? You’re nothing more than a trickster! A messenger!”

“What could a lesser god like you do to us? You couldn’t take a step if we didn’t wish it so,” Hades said. Gabriel’s eyes lit up. He took a step towards them, and then another, continuing till he was inches from Persephone.

“Boy, you must be feeling generous to let me get this close then,” he said, voice alight with mischief. Persephone opened her mouth to question how, when he drove his blade up through her jaw. The only noise she made was a faint gargling as the light faded from within her and she collapsed to the floor. “Huh. So, I’m guessing you wished her dead then?” Gabriel said to Hades.

“Traitor,” Hades hissed out, backing away. “You betray your own kin?”

“Well,” Gabriel replied, dragging out the word. “Technically, he’s my kin, not you.” Gabriel jabbed a finger back towards Castiel, and Hades glanced between them, confused. Realization dawned on him, and a mixture of shock and disgust flitted across his face.

“Angel,” Hades growled, and Gabriel smirked, stalking towards him. Hades couldn’t move.

“Archangel.”

Gabriel thrust his blade forward, burying it upwards in Hades’ chest. The god convulsed, his soul sparking brighter than Persephone’s had. It lasted a few seconds, then Hades fell to the floor at Gabriel’s feet.

Gabriel stepped away, and turning towards Sam, he waved at the hunter with a big grin. “Heya Sam! Did you miss me?”

Before Sam had a chance to respond, Gabriel snapped his fingers, and everything was black again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, this is the only serious chapter I have planned. From now on, it's all fluff. I just couldn't have them dancing their way out of an encounter with pagans, and Gabriel had to reveal himself at some point.
> 
> Comments and kudos are massively appreciated if you've enjoyed <3


	10. T minus 4 days

_It was the heeeaaaat of the moment_  
  
Sam jolted awake at the familiar words. “Dean?” He yelled out. The few times the song had awoken them during hunts, Sam had reacted exactly the same. It was a habit permanently linked with the song now.  
  
“So co-dependent you wake up yelling for each other?” Gabriel let out an impressed whistle, and the song stopped. “Time to rise, Sammy.”  
  
Once the initial shock had passed, Sam realized he wasn’t in the motel room. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d never seen such a decorative room. It screamed out of wealth and arrogance, from the fur rug draped across the floor to the ridiculously big TV hung on the wall.  
  
Glancing down, Sam noticed he was wearing pajamas. Underneath the red flannel top, his chest was wrapped in bandages, with the edges of the lacerations visible. Small butterfly stitches had been applied down the length of each cut.  
  
“Did you-?” Sam started, and Gabriel shook his head.  
  
“I didn’t peek, just thought you’d be more comfortable in actual sleepwear. And Charlie did the bandages,” Gabriel replied. “Unconscious really isn’t my style, kid, and I wasn’t going to heal it without your word.”  
  
Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise; he hadn’t really expected Gabriel of all people to consider his opinion. As ridiculous as it was, having the choice whether he was healed or not made Sam feel better. It meant there was still an element of his life he still had control over. Given what had happened with Gadreel and Lucifer, he appreciated that a lot.  
  
“Charlie’s okay?”  
  
“Charlie’s peachy – I think she’s making pancakes now, kiddo. Better hurry before Dean-o gets them all.”  
  
Sam smiled, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His chest hurt a little, but from what he could tell, Charlie had done a good job. There was still a light thudding in his head – if it continued, he’d ask Gabriel about it – but other than that, Sam felt quite good.  
  
“How’re Dean and Castiel?”  
  
“Pretty good, given the dosage they were both pumping round.” Gabriel watched Sam closely as he rounded the bed.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Would’ve been enough to kill a normal human – Hades and Persephone would’ve made crappy doctors.” Sam laughed, and followed Gabriel out of the bedroom. “You not going to ask me how I’m still up and kicking?”  
  
“I’d kinda expected you to still be alive – death doesn’t seem to be your thing.”  
  
Gabriel gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his mouth before dropping it to his chest. “Sam, you wound me!”  
  
“And I reckon we’re going to hear the story of how you’re alive pretty soon,” Sam continued, as though Gabriel hadn’t spoken. Walking down the hallway, Sam was in awe. Lining the walls were paintings, ranging from classical to contemporary. There were angels and clouds and flames and light and gods. It didn’t take Sam long to figure out that they were depicting events from Gabriel’s lifetime.  
  
As though he knew what Sam was thinking – which Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he did – Gabriel started to talk. “Once upon a time, cameras didn’t exist. If I wanted something permanent, I’d “inspire” an artist with the image. Let a few days pass, then offer them everything they ever wanted for the painting. Worked every time.”  
  
“Is that the Horn?” Sam asked, pointing one out as they walked past. Gabriel gave it a passing glance.  
  
“Mhm. Might let you try blowing it one day,” Gabriel replied with a wink. Sam’s eyes widened as a he made a soft surprised noise.  
  
“Well, you’re definitely the Gabriel I remember.”  
  
“Nice. You remember me by my dick. How romantic, Sammy boy.”  
  
“That’s not what-“ Sam replied quickly, flustered. “Shut up,” he managed, his tone petulant. Gabriel grinned smugly as they entered the kitchen, followed by an embarrassed Sam. Charlie was flipping a pancake when she saw them, and almost ended up dropping it.  
  
“Sam! How’re you feeling? I hope you didn’t mind the bandages!” Charlie spurted out in a jumble of rushed words. It was only by force of will that she didn’t run to hug him. “Pancake? Greedy over there has already had five.”  
  
“I’m a growing boy!” Gabriel protested, and both Sam and Charlie laughed in response.  
  
“Sure thing. You keep telling yourself that,” Charlie replied mockingly, sliding the pancake on a plate. “The other two up yet?”  
  
“Haven’t checked, kinda don’t want to.”  
  
“Gabe. Go check on Dean and Cas – you can’t be rude to guests.”  
  
“Fine, whatever,” Gabriel relented, throwing his hands up in mock surrender and walking out the room. Sam was still processing the exchange. In all honesty, he wasn’t surprised Charlie and Gabriel had clicked. He just didn’t expect them to click so well in less than twenty four hours.  
  
  
Charlie turned the dial on the hob off, and put the pan down on the ring. Sam sat down on the sofa – who the hell had a sofa in the kitchen? – and Charlie collapsed down next to him. She kicked her legs out, and the recliner opened.  
  
“So…”  
  
“I’m not even sure I’m surprised. Maybe it all just needs time to sink in. It’s been a weird day,” Sam said. There was a loud wailing horn noise from where Gabriel had gone, and they both just looked to the hallway in amusement.  
  
“You and me both. Have you met the cupids yet?” Charlie asked, her voice dropping in volume.  
  
“No – I’m hoping to keep out their path if I’m honest. How many?”  
  
“Four.”  
  
“Great,” Sam sighed out, and Charlie laughed. There was a clattering from down the hallway, and muffled yelling. “Either Dean met Gabriel, or Dean met the cupids. I’m not sure which is worse.”

* * *

“You guys go and wake up Dean, and I’ll be in in a minute, yeah?” Haniel and Parasiel didn’t need telling twice, bounding down towards the door Gabriel had pointed out to them. He slipped into the room to his left, Castiel in a light sleep.  
  
He considered being a good older brother and letting Castiel sleep a little longer. Except, that was the boring option. An air horn appeared in his hand, and he pressed hard on the top. Castiel jumped awake, wide eyed and confused, until he spotted Gabriel leaning against the wall and laughing.  
  
“Morning, Cassie!” Gabriel chimed in a sing-song tone, and Castiel glared bitterly at him.  
  
“I would say how nice it is to see you, but that action has reminded how… trying your company can be.”  
  
“I missed you too, kiddo,” Gabriel said, sitting down onto the bed. He ruffled Castiel’s hair and grinned as the younger angel lightened up a little.  
  
“I’m assuming that since I’m alive, I owe you thanks,” Castiel said, pushing himself up onto his elbows.  
  
“Mhm. Shame you missed it all too, being passed out and all.” Castiel broke into a small smile at that. “So, c’mon, what’s going on with Ken doll? You boned him yet?”  
  
“Nothing, which is to be expected,” Castiel replied, shrugging it off. “Dean would not be interested in pursuing anything with me, so there’s no reason for me to long after it.” Gabriel clapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulder and snorted.  
  
“Kid, he’s head-over-heels smitten too. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”  
  
“For some strange reason, I don’t believe you,” Castiel replied, his tone light and mocking.  
  
“Still a few days till Valentine’s Day, and I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve, kiddo. You just leave the miracle working to me, Cassie.”  
  
“I’m not sure that’s a goo-“  
  
There was a distant yelling of “What the hell?!”, amongst other, less polite remarks. Gabriel almost doubled over, and Castiel watched his brother suspiciously.  
  
“What did you do, Gabriel?”  
  
“Hey, don’t blame me!” Gabriel retorted back, and Castiel squinted in confusion. “Blame the cupids!”  
  
Castiel shot out of bed, dragging his brother behind him to the source of the noise. “Sort it out,” he growled, shoving a still laughing Gabriel into Dean’s bedroom.  
  
Dean glared at the new intruder in his room, hissing out a cold “You.” It was quite the sight; the two cupids had decided to lie down either side of Dean, making an angelic spooning sandwich out of the hunter. Haniel had his arms draped across Dean and across to Parasiel, and made a happy humming noise. Dean grumbled in response, his expression getting darker by the second. “Should’ve known it was you.”  
  
“No thanks for saving your ass?”  
  
“Saved it once. Doesn’t quite balance out all the times you killed me.”  
  
“You still stuck on that?” Dean just glared pointedly at him. “Alright, fine. Haven’t you two got a cake to get baking?”  
  
“Dean is being very negative – we’re simply trying to pool the positivity to him,” Parasiel replied with a bright smile. Haniel nodded vigorously.  
  
“Mm, getting the feeling that ain’t really working, kiddo. C’mon, scram.”  
  
Gabriel’s words were met with frowns, but the cupids recognized the order weaved within them. They skulked out the doorway, till it was just him and Dean, with Castiel hovering by the door.  
  
“Right, I’m gonna leave you two lovebirds to bicker, fuck, whatever. Condoms and lube in the top draw. Charlie’s making great pancakes, I ain’t missing out on that.”  
  
Gabriel walked out of the room, giving Castiel a little shove as he left. Castiel stumbled in, and glanced around as he was caught off guard.  
  
“You good?” Dean said, shuffling into a sitting position. He shook the duvet, and the imprints of the cupids were gone.  
  
“Yeah. Surprisingly, I’m feeling good. How’re you, Dean?” Castiel replied, and settled on taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Dean shook his head and shuffled across, gesturing for the angel to come sit up against the cushions. Dean lifted the duvet, and Castiel moved up next to him, kicking his legs underneath the duvet.  
  
“Not as great as I could’ve been – he put a damper on it.” Castiel sighed, and Dean glanced across him. “I know he’s your brother and all, it’s just-“  
  
“I know. He’s a little… difficult for some people to handle. I just think that right now, we should be grateful to Gabriel. Whether he’s acting like an ass or not, he did save us, and he’s provided temporary safe residence in his home.”  
  
“His home?”  
  
Castiel nodded. “It exists on the edge between your reality and Heaven. Impossible to enter unless he permits it.”  
  
Dean took a breath in and glanced down. After a moment, he ran a hand through his hair and said, “I’ll try to get on with him, if it makes you happy.”  
  
“Thank you,” Castiel responded. They sat there in silence for a moment. It wasn’t awkward; more complacent and light.  
  
“You know the whole bed hair thing?” Dean said eventually, turning to look at Castiel. When the angel frowned, Dean rolled his eyes. “Your hair, how it’s all messy?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“It suits you.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Something twisted inside Castiel’s chest, pounding hard against his vessel’s ribcage. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it or loathed it. He felt warmth climbing up his neck.  
  
“Thank you?”  
  
Dean almost laughed in frustration, almost pulled Castiel towards him, when a shout echoed down the hallway, loud and clear.  
  
“C’mon guys! Charlie’s made an excess of pancakes here!”  
  
Dean groaned, and Castiel rolled his eyes, shuffling off the bed. Castiel couldn’t help but note how much of a cock block his brother managed to be, especially for someone trying to set them up. The less than accidental catch of Dean’s hand told him that whatever was happening just wasn’t over yet.

* * *

“-so basically, I sweet-talked my way out of death.”  
  
Gabriel finished his tale, and pulled another plate of pancakes towards himself. Pancakes had ended up making up every meal of the day. After taunting Dean and Castiel, joking around with Charlie and making lewd comments aimed at Sam, Gabriel decided to tell them the story of how he was still alive.  
  
It turned out that he’d essentially screwed over the system of the afterlife with his gallivanting, with multiple afterlives having a claim on his soul. It ended with him suggesting to the various death figures that they simply let him go, and having spent years trying to sort it out, they were prepared to do pretty much anything.  
  
The stunt with Metatron – Castiel alluded to it – was simply because he’d owed the angel a favor. Metatron had deflected Michael’s attentions from him during his hiding. Gabriel denied knowing anything about how Metatron had shut down Heaven. He insisted he would’ve backed out if he knew.  
  
“First time I’ve heard someone sweet-talking their way out of death,” Charlie commented. She pushed an empty plate away towards the center of the table.  
  
“That’s what Death said too,” Gabriel replied with a smirk. Castiel shook his head and laughed gently.  
  
“Bit like the whole thing with the Elysian Fields, with a soul being able to resurrect for a second chance,” Sam said. Dean frowned.  
  
“Wasn’t that the name of the hotel you-“ Dean started, but Gabriel interrupted.  
  
“Yeah, it was.”  
  
“It all seems a little too coincidental, if I’m honest,” Castiel said, and Sam agreed with him. Maybe it was all a deliberate construct for a second chance.  
  
“Godly intervention or not, I’m just good with still being here and kicking.”  
  
“Maybe Father sees more in you than what you think, brother.” Gabriel laughed at that, shaking his head.  
  
“You’re all being dull now, with serious talking. Chill out a bit, eat some pancakes, have sex, whatever floats your boat,” Gabriel said nonchalantly. Charlie bit her tongue, glancing between Sam and Dean, watching as both of them quite visibly reacted. Dean almost choked on the piece of pancake he was chewing, whilst Sam went wide-eyed and tense. Castiel didn’t seem much more passive, staring religiously at his plate like it had the answers to the universe.  
  
She could see herself enjoying this quite a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you there would only be one serious chapter~
> 
> Comments are really appreciated! <3


	11. T minus 3 days

The morning started in a similar manner, minus the bad songs, air horns and spooning cupids. Dean and Castiel had wandered out to the kitchen around to the same time, prompting Gabriel to make kissing gestures at them. Charlie just laughed, and continued to browse the breakfast buffet with a full plate.

Sam came out a little later, his hair still damp from a shower. “Those showers aren’t for showering, Sammich,” Gabriel had remarked lewdly, complete with a wink. Sam laughed nervously, and pretended he hadn’t heard the comment.

The cupids had shuffled in and out, asking for more ingredients. Charlie couldn’t help but wonder what recipe needed caster sugar, fondant and lettuce leaves.

It was all quite peaceful and jovial. Was.

“Why are we still here?” Dean had asked Castiel as they lazed on the sofas, plates nestled on their laps. Castiel noticed Gabriel falter at Dean’s comment, before gathering himself and continuing in ignorance.

“Dean, please don’t start,” Castiel replied.

“I’m serious. The bunker is fine, and-“

“I get it, alright. Loud and clear, you can’t stand me,” Gabriel interrupted. The complete lack of emotion made Dean regret speaking so loud. Anger and annoyance, he could deal with. But when someone shut down to the point where there was nothing; he couldn’t work with that.

“Brother,” Castiel said, and it was pleading. Asking him not to act rashly.

“What? Dean wants to go home – who am I to say no? I just thought I’d be nice, let you guys wait it out up here, make sure no Pagan decides it wants revenge, but whatever.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Really? How did you mean it then, huh?”

“Gabriel, please don’t,” Sam said. The archangel glared pointedly at him. Sam stood up, and gestured for Gabriel to do the same. “Let’s walk, you need to cool off.”

Gabriel paused a moment, before standing up and walking out the room. Castiel mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ at Sam as he left. Sam shut the door behind him, and turned to face Gabriel.

“You good?”

“I’m pissed,” Gabriel replied, stalking down the hallway. He opened one of the doors to his left out onto an empty field. Sam followed, and though he was still in awe at how easily Gabriel performed such feats, he didn’t vocalize it this time.

The door stayed open as Sam followed Gabriel. He walked through the flower-riddled grass towards an oak that sat in the center, and stopped a few meters away from it with his back to Sam. His head hung a little.

“Talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t speak.”

Sam watched as Gabriel straightened his posture out a little, looking up into the foliage of the tree. “Norway had a lot of forests, you know? Lots of trees, lots of open spaces like this. It was easy.” Sam frowned, but nodded. “Kali loved these places – loved places where she could feel nature. That’s why she’s so bitter now. You humans took away all the forests.”

“Uh, sorry?” Sam offered up, unsure of how he was meant to respond. Gabriel laughed bitterly.

“Don’t apologize.”

“Seriously, what’s up with you? Because something’s wrong.”

Gabriel turned around, and sunk to the floor cross-legged. Sam wavered a moment before doing the same in front of him. “I’m frustrated. I get that I fucked up before, and I was a complete ass before, but I’m trying to do something decent for once.”

“You mean setting them up?”

“No. Well, kinda. That’s part of it, trying to make them realize what they mean to each other. But, helping you guys out. Letting you stay here. Second chances ain’t common, and I’m trying to make good with mine.”

“And you are doing good, Gabriel. You were doing good before, just in a bad way.”

“Bullshit. I was an ass who used justice as an excuse,” Gabriel replied in a cold tone. He looked down, plucking a small daisy from the grass. Whilst he was looking at the daisy, he wasn’t seeing Sam get disappointed or frustrated.

Sam sighed and shuffled closer through the grass. “Look at me,” Sam said, not continuing until Gabriel looked up from the daisy gripped between his fingers. “You’re a good person. You were trying to help us all along, and you did the right thing in the end.”

“You know what?” Gabriel replied, and his voice was sharp. “I’m frustrated with you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Gabriel jabbed him with a pointed finger in the chest, and Sam frowned in response. “You’ve dealt with more shit than should be possible. You spent dad knows how long down under, doing the tango with Luci. I can imagine what it was like, and it ain’t pretty. You’ve been twisted and manipulated and blamed for so much shit that wasn’t your fault. And somehow, you’re still spouting sunshine and fluffy kittens like it’s nothing.”

“I guess the bad things just make the good things seem so much better,” Sam replied, shrugging like it was normal. Gabriel glowered at him.

“See, rainbows and sugar sprinkles! It’s ridiculous. You should be pissed at the world for everything you’ve been through.”

Sam laughed a little, and said, “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be grouchier for you in future.” Gabriel just shook his head at him and continued glaring. “What?” Sam furrowed his brow at the archangel, and Gabriel felt his anger crumble slowly. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Why’d you have to be a human, kid?”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I mean, why’d you have to be blip. Why couldn’t you live forever, or at least longer?”

“Because I’m human, and human’s don’t live forever?”

“Exactly.”

“Why’re you complaining about my lifespan?”

“Because…” Gabriel paused, closing his eyes. He took a moment, then looked at Sam again. “Because I like you, okay? Always have had a soft spot for you, Sam. And I guess things just went downhill from there.”

Sam didn’t reply. He stared at Gabriel, processing what the archangel had said. Gabriel watched him. Willed him to say something.

Sam couldn’t bring himself to say something – the words had yanked up old feelings. The flirtationship when they first met. The anger when Dean died over and over again. The hopefulness when the Trickster pushed them through TV land. The painful understanding when Gabriel told them about how he just wanted it all to end. The admiration when he stood up to Lucifer. The all-consuming sadness when they watched the DVD.

Sam quickly realized that Gabriel’s revelation hadn’t brought the memories back. They’d simply made Sam aware of the feeling that had been lurking on the surface ever since the Pagan incident.

As Sam continued to stay silent, Gabriel fell back onto the defensive, throwing up a sneer.

“What, was it buy one get one free on pissing off Winchesters today?”

“Gabriel-“

“Don’t.” It was short and clipped.

Sam blinked, and the field was replaced by the bunker. Gabriel was gone.

* * *

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, right?” Dean said to Castiel, and the angel smiled sympathetically.

“I know, but your timing and wording needs improvement, Dean. I believe Gabriel is genuinely trying to be hospitable.” Dean sighed, rolling his head back against the sofa. Charlie sat down next to him.

“Don’t fret it, Dean. Just let Sam talk to him,” Charlie commented. She looked down at the plate in disdain; she wasn’t really feeling hungry anymore.

“You could just apologize when he comes, Dean,” Castiel added.

“Yeah, sure, because words solve everything. I’m not apologizing to him,” Dean replied sarcastically.

“I’m serious. If you apologize to Gabriel, he might calm down a little.”

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “I’ll-“

Dean was cut off as the living room flickered around them, slowly morphing into the much more familiar setting of the bunker.

“That can’t be good,” Charlie mumbled, noticing her plate had gone. She was a little thankful for that; she didn’t want to be rude and just not eat the food.

“You were saying about ‘just letting Sam talk to him’?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Sam said, standing at the other end of the room. Dean almost swore. “Looks like I can’t even be trusted with that, right?”

“What happened?” Dean asked, and Sam laughed and shook his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam replied, and Dean frowned in concern. Sam sighed at Dean’s reaction. “I messed up, okay? Is that really a surprise?”

Dean wasn’t sure how to respond, so he was thankful when Charlie stepped forward. “Sam, it’s-“

“No. Find a case or something. I’m going down to the shooting gallery.”

None of them tried to stop Sam as he stalked out of the room.

* * *

Sam prayed that night. He hadn’t really prayed much before; being called an abomination by angels gave the hint that they didn’t want to interact. So he wasn’t too certain on the correct way to pray. He decided to be formal – if anything, it was more respectful. Sam knelt on the floor, and bowed his head into pressed palms.

Closing his eyes, he uttered: “O Saint Archangel Gabriel, let these words be delivered unto you. I request an audience with you, to discuss matters. I… I sound ridiculous.

“Look, Gabriel. If you hear this, please don’t ignore it. I need to talk to you, without you doing that vanishing act. Please. Amen.”

Sam looked up hopefully, and waited. The seconds ticked into minutes, and hopefulness eroded into desperation. Sam did his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest when he realized that his prayer had gone unheard had or been disregarded.

Sam nodded slowly, and mumbled to himself about how it was a stupid idea anyway. He decided he’d rather retire to an early night than go back out to the sympathetic, confused faces waiting for him. The array of plushies clutching hearts around his room only served to make Sam feel guiltier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said no more serious, but I started writing and it kind of got away with me on this one. Also, this chapter is a little on the short side, so I'll try and make up for that with tomorrow's chapter.
> 
> As always, comments make me super happy! <3


	12. T minus 2 days

“Brother, what’s going on?”

Castiel had summoned the cupids early that morning. He didn’t tell Dean or Sam or Charlie, and when he felt the presence of his siblings close by, Castiel left the bunker and met them outside. Without Gabriel’s help, they couldn’t enter the bunker as they hadn’t been invited in.

“I presume Gabriel has told you to stop everything.”

Anzhela shook her head. “Quite the opposite. He hasn’t spoken with us since ‘The Incident’.”

Castiel frowned, tilting his head. “’The Incident’?” He repeated, and the cupids all nodded.

“It’s what we’re calling it, since Gabriel will not tell us what happened,” Vangelis added helpfully.

“He’s just moping around Heaven, and he won’t acknowledge any of us,” Haniel said. His bottom lip wobbled.

“I have an idea – there was mention of a cake?”

Parasiel explained – in almost painful detail – the outlines of Gabriel’s plan that were yet to be enacted. The cake was the focal point, and the more she spoke about it, the more Castiel smiled.

“Do you still have this cake?”

“Of course,” Vangelis said. “We laboured over it for days. We weren’t going to just throw it out.”

“Good.”

“You have an idea, don’t you?”

“I do.”

The cupids gathered round closer, eagerly listening as Castiel laid out his proposition to them. It meant a few alterations, but it was something they all thought was doable. And better still, they all agreed it was definitely a good idea, and they were all in. Haniel departed to Heaven to prep the kitchen. Gabriel hadn’t been back to the corner of Heaven they’d occupied since ‘The Incident’, so they decided it was safe to work there.

Parasiel and Vangelis left for the supermarket to get everything they needed. They didn’t have someone around who could produce anything they needed, so Castiel gave them some money.

Anzhela lingered behind, waiting till the other cupids were out of earshot.

“Castiel, I would like to talk to you.”

“Of course – what is it?”

“How is Sam Winchester?”

Castiel frowned at her. “Do you know something about what happened, sister?”

“I have my suspicions. Gabriel had expressed… feelings towards Sam during the early stage of the plan. Throughout the hunt, he repeatedly helped Sam out through guiding his searches,” Anzhela said. Her voice was barely a whisper, as though she feared Gabriel hearing her. “He told me it was so Sam did not feel left out, but given his previous interest in Sam, I doubted him.”

“You believe it is something to do with this?” Anzhela nodded, and Castiel glanced away as he pondered on it. “Sam refused to speak about what happened, and appeared quite upset when I last saw him.”

“It is clearly something that has hurt both of them then.”

“Should we be intervening?”

“I don't think so,” Anzhela replied. “Not yet, anyway. We may be infringing on personal issues if we do.”

“True,” Castiel said. Anzhela turned away, ready to set off back to Heaven to help Haniel. “Please keep me updated on Gabriel, sister.”

“The same to you on Sam, Castiel,” Anzhela said, and Castiel nodded. “Do not let the current events impede on your love though, brother. It is a strong love – it would be a shame for it to go to waste.”

Castiel didn’t have time to reply before Anzhela had departed for Heaven.

* * *

“Morning Sam!” Charlie chimed as she pulled up a seat at the table, pushing her plate and cup on to the table with a loud clatter. Sam peered over the laptop screen – she’d made an omelet. “What’re you doing?”

“Looking for a case,” Sam replied passively.

Charlie pushed the laptop lid down, grinning as Sam pulled his fingers out the way just in time. “No, you're not. You're gonna kick your feet up, watch some crappy TV, and relax.”

“Charlie…”

“You're in a bad mood – Dean would back me up when I say that hunting in a bad mood is dangerous. You’ll just get yourself hurt, you big dope.” Sam watched her with a lazy aggressiveness. “Hey, you didn't finish reading Lucifer’s autobiography! That sure sounds like a fun, relaxing thing!”

“I don't need to relax, I need to do something.”

“Bullshit. You need to do something? Go take a bubble bath. Binge watch Harry Potter with me. Learn how to play the ukelele. Just don't go hunting, Sam.”

“So what, I should let people die just because you think I need a break?”

“There are more hunters out there; they can deal with everything for a week.”

Sam huffed and stood up, tucking his laptop underneath his arm. “Are there any more eggs left?”

“’Nother box at the back if you need more,” Charlie said round a mouthful of omelet. She took a drink of coffee as Sam left. She was concerned about him; he was falling into the same self-loathing cycle she’d read him struggle in and out of. Taking up the mentality that his life was only worth those he could save, and that he had nothing to give beyond that.

After making a small omelet, simply so Charlie couldn’t call bullshit, Sam made his way down to his room and took up a seat on his bed. His legs were bent so he could prop the laptop up on them. The omelet lay untouched next to him as he scrolled through article after article, hitting the red x on each of them.

Sam didn’t keep track of the time. He just plowed through website after website, growing more and more frustrated when nothing came up. Ten news websites. Fifteen news websites. Absolutely nothing.

Sam closed all the tabs, and opened a new one, logging into his main email. It was a long shot, but maybe someone had emailed something. When the server had finally processed his request, his inbox opened with two new pieces of mail. A quick read said they were both junk.

He deleted them out of his inbox, along with a fair few other emails just to waste time and clean out. At the bottom on the screen was an old message from Castiel, with no title. He glanced at the date – not far from a year old. He almost flicked past it till he noticed the little attachment symbol sitting happily next to Castiel’s name. Curiosity got the better of him, and he opened the message.

There was no text. Just a picture of a blue glowing sigil. Sam remembered it. It was from when Castiel was taken from Metatron. He scribbled down a rough copy of the sigil on paper and folded it up in his pocket, deciding to ask Castiel if he ever found out what it was.

* * *

Castiel walked back into the bunker after taking short walk outside. Anzhela’s words were playing on repeat in his head, and he needed to be able to think them through before he saw Dean again. Anzhela had seemed quite certain that there was something there. A foundation waiting to be built on and fashioned into a relationship. Castiel knew the cupids had an acute sense for love, being able to feel it and aid it and redirect it.

His hands were tucked in the pockets of his trench coat, his hair ruffled slightly by the wind. A soft reddish tinge sat on his cheeks. Castiel was still so absorbed in his line of thought that he didn’t notice the first time Dean called him.

“Cas?”

“Huh?” Castiel shook his head, trying to focus himself. “Sorry. You wanted something?”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk with you.”

“Here?”

“Well, Sam’s off sulking in his room, and Charlie’s hogging the TV. Unless you want to move, here is good.”

Castiel shrugged, and Dean leaned back against the table, his hands supporting either side of him.

“What happened the other day-“

“I completely understand if you regret it. The presence of cupids may have influenced your mood. It’s part of their design, to encourage love.”

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Shut it,” Dean said, and Castiel frowned. “I’m not trying to say I regret it. I’m saying, I’ve had a few days to think about it, and I don’t regret it. I don’t regret what almost happened then, either.”

“What’re you saying?” Castiel asked. He felt his chest tightening, and willed himself to relax. Anzhela’s words echoed round his mind – it is a strong love.

“I’m saying, I’ve had time to think about everything. I know before I said you were like family, but I guess… I didn’t understand how I felt then. I don’t understand it now, but I think I’ve got a better idea.” Dean stumbled over his words, pausing to try and string together coherent sentences. “I’m not saying I don’t care anymore – I think I care more. But, in a different way, if you get what I mean?”

“I think I do,” Castiel replied, and Dean visibly lifted. A small smile appeared, and disappeared almost as quickly.

“You do? Are you- are we thinking about the same thing?”

_Actions speak louder than words_. It was a quote Castiel had stumbled across during his first year on Earth. He hadn’t understood it then. It was the quote that drove him forward now. He moved slowly, pressing his lips against Dean’s. The hunter reciprocated after the initial shock, moving under Castiel’s guidance.

It was short, and Castiel was the one who pulled away, watching carefully for Dean’s reaction.

“We, uh… We were thinking about the same thing,” Dean breathed out, followed by a short laugh.

“Good.”

Dean ran a hand through Castiel’s hair, ruffling it. “I really like your bed hair.” Castiel smirked, with his hair twisting in seven different ways and his pupils lust blown. Dean melted under the sight.

When Castiel kissed Dean again, it was firmer and more certain. It was rough and dominating, and Dean loved it. The faint sound of angelic cheering from the other side of the bunker door went unheard.

* * *

Sam was sat in the library, with a pile of books and files on one side and the scribbled sigil on the other. It wasn’t the most productive use of his time, but given Charlie’s refusal to let him go hunting, he had to settle for just research.

His finger was trailing down the yellowing page of an old book when Dean and Castiel walked in. He only cast them a passing glance first, then took a double take when something felt off. Castiel’s collar was upturned and his hair was ruffled; Dean’s shirt buttoned right up, which was new. Sam frowned, and Dean shuffled awkwardly before walking out the room.

“Uh… Hello, Sam,” Castiel said hesitantly. Sam looked at him incredulously, and Castiel shrugged.

“Did you two just…”

“We didn’t have sex, if that's what you’re asking,” Castiel replied. “But we did engage romantically.”

Sam quirked his eyebrow, then cracked a brief grin. “About fucking time,” he muttered, then waved Castiel over. “Need to ask you something.”

Castiel wandered over, glancing over Sam’s shoulder at the book. “I expected… well, I wasn’t expecting that reaction.”

“Sorry, I’m just not feeling like throwing confetti at the moment.”

“I meant- doesn’t matter. What do you want to ask?” Sam grabbed the scrunched piece of paper sitting by the top of the yellowing tome and waved it at Castiel.

“Did you ever find out what this was?”

Castiel hesitated. “Yes.”

Sam turned in the chair to look at him, searching for the answer somewhere in Castiel’s face. “What is it?”

“Sam-“

“What is it?” Sam repeated, a little firmer than before.

Castiel sighed. “It’s the Horn of Gabriel. A spell created to co-exist with the physical Heavenly Artifact.”

Sam stopped. An idea was beginning to form in his mind. A stupid idea, granted, but an idea nonetheless. “Will Gabriel answer to it?” he asked slowly.

“He isn’t obliged to respond,” Castiel responded, and Sam faltered. “But given that the only living beings who know the spell are Gabriel, Metatron and me, most likely.”

“You know the spell?”

“Sam, whatever you’re planning, it isn’t a good idea.”

“I don’t care. I need to speak with him,” Sam replied. “Can you tell me the spell? The ingredients I need?”

Castiel wavered, and Sam’s expression crumbled from determined to bordering on pleading.

“Please?”

“Have you got any paper?” Castiel said, relenting. Sam shoved the notepad and pen towards Castiel, thankfulness etched into every movement he made.

* * *

It took Sam four hours to get all the ingredients Castiel had written down for him. One by one, Sam had crossed them off. It had been quite hard to find stockists for ‘Griffin Feathers’ and ‘Fairy Bones’, but Sam was persistent. He’d ended up going around six ‘hunter-friendly’ shops to tick everything off.

Castiel had lent him his car, just to avoid Dean asking questions. At least Castiel understood that keeping Dean in the dark, at least for now, was for the best.

Glancing down at the clock, it was already 8:38pm. As much as he wanted to work the spell, Sam decided against it. If anything did go wrong, he’d rather have Dean, Castiel and Charlie awake and alert rather than half asleep. He decided – reluctantly – to wait till tomorrow to cast the spell.

He pulled up outside the bunker, and dumped the bag in his bedroom. If he didn’t go back out, he’d end up facing endless questions and concerned looks, and those were getting pretty old.

Sam made himself a cup of tea, and wandered into the living room. Charlie was slouched in the armchair with her hand draped protectively over the remote. Dean and Castiel were sat on the couch. If Sam noticed that they were closer than normal or that their hands brushed against each other, he didn’t say something.

Pulling up the beanbag, Sam sat down and tried to figure out what they were watching and what had already happened. Something about a murder on board a space mission. It didn’t grab Sam’s attention.

When they all retired to bed, Sam turned around all the cuddly toys so they faced away from him, and prayed. It wasn’t met with a response, and he hadn’t expected one. He sighed, and lay down in bed, closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to start wrapping up all the loose bits and bobs! Aka those who endure me going off on less than happy tangents will always benefit.
> 
> As always, comments are super appreciated and I love to hear what people think of the chapter!


	13. T minus 1 days

It was 10 am. Sam had had his morning jog and shower, glad to be able to fall back into the familiar routine. They’d all ate breakfast, and dispersed. Since everything seemed calm, the quest for information on the Mark of Cain was back on. Charlie had taken over internet research, given her ability to access pretty much anything. Dean and Castiel were coincidentally both browsing the library. Sam figured they probably weren’t reading.

Sam said he was going to continue working through _The Grand Grimoire_ \- he felt confident there’d be something. It wasn’t the book Sam picked up when he went into his room, though; it was the bag of ingredients.

Sam pocketed the list and grabbed a mortar and pestle from the kitchen. He made his way down to the basement they’d once detained Crowley in, and locked the door. The spell was either going to work, or it wasn’t, and Sam didn’t want any interruptions.

Sam poured the goat’s blood into the bowl. He drew a thin line across his palm with a knife and clenched, watching as some of his own blood mingled with the darker red. He wrapped a makeshift bandage around the cut, and pulled out the fairy bones. Sam tossed them into the mortar, and ground them to dust in the bloody mixture.

Reaching into the bag, he grabbed the three Griffin feathers and lay them besides the bowl. Sam sprinkled the powdery herb Blessed Thistle, watching it fizzle in the blood, and pulled out his lighter. One by one, he burnt the Griffin feathers over the mortar, letting the ashes fall into the mixture.

Sam used the pestle once more to ensure everything was blended evenly, and carried the bowl and sigil sketch over to the wall.

He dipped his fingers into the gooey blend and began painting the Horn of Gabriel out onto the wall. Sam traced every straight line and curve of the sigil with his hand. It stretched wide, and the bloody mixture began to run down the wall in rivulets. Sam hoped it wouldn’t impact upon the spell.

It began to glow a faint blue as Sam got the foundation finished. He began to add in the small lines that sprouted from the umbrella curve. Each line made it glow a little brighter, and he was counting down the lines till it was complete. Five more. Four more. Three more. Two more.

“Unless you want every angel in a hundred mile radius flocking round here, stop it.”

Sam dropped the mortar and turned around.

“What? You clearly wanted something, so talk.”

Gabriel leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded across his chest. He stared at Sam with a neutral expression.

“I want to talk with you.”

“Well, talk. I have better things to be doing right now.”

“Gabriel, stop it. I wanted to talk about the other day-“

“You just want to rub it in more, huh?” Gabriel laughed, cold and bitter. Sam didn’t like it. “You want to remind me that I gambled, and made a twat of myself?” Sam stalked over to Gabriel, glaring as he wouldn’t stop talking. “Serves me right for opening up to a human, for falling for a hu-“ Sam’s hand hit the wall beside Gabriel’s head, and the archangel shut up.

“You can’t just drop something like that on me, and expect an instant response,” Sam growled. He towered above Gabriel, glaring down at him. “You can’t expect me to fucking process that in seconds.”

“Why not?” Gabriel hissed back. Sam should’ve been scared. Sam should’ve backed away, should’ve run as far he could at the sight of the archangel tensing up. Gabriel sneered at Sam, clenching his jaw. He jabbed him in the chest; it wasn’t playful like the last time, it was threatening and aggressive. One little finger had felt like a punch. “If you felt the same, it would’ve came naturally.”

“Maybe for you. Maybe for you, it’s that easy. But when I’ve spent my life having angels hiss abomination when they see me, it felt like a fucking joke for you to say that. For something so holy to actually give a shit.”

“Don’t turn this into a sob story.”

“I’m not – you need to understand. You need to know why I reacted like that.”

“If you think this is funny, fuck you.”

Sam almost punched the wall out of frustration. Gabriel was watching him, all angry and hurt and expectant. Sam took a step closer, and watched as Gabriel backed right up against the wall, watching him hungrily. He ducked and kissed him. Gabriel responded by wrapping his legs around Sam’s waist, letting the hunter lift him up.

It was aggressive and frustrated. Sam pressed Gabriel against the wall, trying to close the non-existent gap between them. Gabriel clawed through Sam’s hair with one hand and raked down his back with the other. He almost moaned each time Sam’s chest arched against him in response.

Gabriel was the first to pull away, watching Sam breath heavily like he’d never known how to before. “Fuck you?” he said, voice low and rough.

“Please,” Sam responded between breathes. “Just, not yet. Not here. Need to clean that up.” Sam gestured at the bloody sigil, never taking his eyes off the archangel. Gabriel was practically glowing. Sam was pretty certain he saw a faint golden outline around him.

Gabriel clicked, and the sigil was gone.

“Oh.”

Gabriel smirked, then started to work his hands down Sam’s shirt, popping the buttons open one by one. Sam didn’t use quite so much finesse as he did the same – a few shirt buttons went rolling across the floor. Sam pressed his lips against the bare skin of Gabriel’s neck, then bit down. He smirked as Gabriel let his head fall back against the wall with a soft moan.

“Fuck.”

* * *

Charlie was the first one to see Sam when he finally came upstairs. She’d only glanced up from the laptop as he walked in, only to frown and look back up.

“Have you got some secret lover stashed downstairs?”

Sam looked startled: he went wide-eyed, gaping at her. “What?”

“Your top.” Sam glanced down when he realized what she was referring to – his top was buttoned up wrong, and was slanted now.

“Oh, shit,” Sam muttered, trying to figure out if it would be inappropriate to sort it out here. Charlie laughed at him.

“Come on, spill. Who’ve you been banging, while the rest of us have been slaving over work?”

“Um.”

“Sam?”

Gabriel decided to wander through the room at that point. Sam looked over to him – his hair wasn’t that messy before, the bastard. Charlie glanced between the two of them, raising her eyebrow as Gabriel winked at her.

“Heya Charlie!”

“You two?”

“I rode the moose!” Gabriel said, and Sam winced at the volume. It was like some kind of stupid victory cheer. The archangel wandered out the room, leaving Sam to deal with an inquisitive Charlie.

“I know you guys fought, but make-up sex? Doesn’t that come after break-ups?”

Sam didn’t know how to answer, and just shrugged at her. “Apparently not.”

“Well,” Charlie said, blinking. “Dean, I figured from the get go that he swung for the other team. But you- I thought you were straight?”

“It’s called bisexual, Charlie.”

“Oh! Okay, that makes sense.”

“Look,” Sam said, glancing to the door. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I feel like if I don’t dash, Gabriel is going to terrorize Dean and Cas.”

“Probably,” Charlie said, and her attention flickered back down to the laptop as she waved Sam out the room.

* * *

Dean and Castiel were sat back to back on the floor in the library, both of them combing through a different book. Castiel gripped a faded document written in Enochian. Primarily because he was the only one who could read Enochian and because it was entitled _Manuscript on Demons_. Dean had a copy of an old tome resting on his lap – the title had long been rubbed off the ivy green cover.

It was peaceful and quiet, until there was a popping sound to Dean’s right and Castiel’s left. Dean glanced to the side, and groaned. A pile of flavored condoms, three tubs of lube, and what he could only presume to be some kind of vibrating sex toy.

“He’s back,” Dean said, and Castiel glanced to the side.

“Maybe we should take them? See how he reacts?”

“What?” Dean flustered a little, ignoring the warmth as it crawled up his neck. Castiel turned around onto his knees to face Dean.

“At some point, our relationship is going to progress to sexual,” Castiel said nonchalantly. Dean was almost surprised at how open the former angel was, till he remembered that Castiel wasn't a virgin. “If Gabriel is offering supplies as a joke, we may as well store them for when they’re actually useful instead of buying new things.”

Dean frowned. “I’m going to find Sam.”

“Why?”

“He’s been moping around because of that son of a bitch for the last few days – what if he isn’t happy about him being back?”

* * *

After checking Sam’s bedroom, Dean wandered down the corridor, glancing in the rooms. Castiel followed him, mostly to see how his own brother was now. He heard a loud clattering noise in the kitchen, and broke into a small sprint, his hand reaching for the gun in his waistband.

Dean rounded the corner, followed quickly by Castiel. He dropped the gun with a thump onto the wooden floor.

Three pans lay on the floor, next to his brother. At the sound of the gun, Sam let go of Gabriel, who’d practically wrapped himself around the hunter mid-embrace. Sam turned to face Dean, with Gabriel’s hand still weaved possessively in his hair. The younger Winchester was the picture of embarrassment, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Dean honestly didn’t know how he felt. Gabriel winked at him with his trademark shit eating grin. Castiel, in all honesty, wasn’t exactly surprised.

“Him?” Dean managed to force out in the end. “You and… him?”

“I guess so?”

“Can’t guys get some privacy round here?” Gabriel said to Dean, his voice laced with mischief. He flicked his wrist, and the kitchen door slammed shut in Dean’s face.

“Well,” Castiel said. “I think your brother is more than happy to see my brother.”

Dean glared at him, and stalked back off to the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect super happy fluffy to round everything up tomorrow!!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and as always, comments and kudos are super appreciated! <3


	14. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all ends

It was 3 am when Castiel opened the bunker door. Gabriel milled beside him, watching as the cupids filed in with quiet squeaks of excitement. It was finally their day, their time to shine and bathe in the love. Each of the cupids dragged a little trolley behind them, filled with balloons and hearts on strings and banners.

One click later, and the walls were varying shades of pink. Castiel frowned, but didn’t say anything. Haniel jumped with happiness. Anzhela grinned wide, her invisible stubby wings wiggling excitedly. Vangelis smirked and shook his head. Parasiel clapped, a big smile plastered on her lips.

Silently, they got to work. Parasiel – with the help of Gabriel – floated up to the banner rail and strung the light up hearts along it. Gabriel stood at the bottom, feeding the wire up to her.

Vangelis sat down on the table surrounded by balloons. He blew them up and tied a knot in the end, then Anzhela placed them around the various rooms and stuck them to the walls with sellotape. They didn't stay put, choosing to hover in the air instead. The majority just had little love hearts drawn on them – the less innocent ones, Anzhela hid away behind bookcases.

Castiel was following an excited Haniel around as he threw glitter confetti across the floor. The time Castiel tried to calm him – “Maybe less glitter, Haniel,” – he’d received a handful sprinkled in his hair. Since then, Castiel had stopped trying to advise and started cautiously supervising instead. The glitter wouldn’t come out his hair, and Castiel felt Gabriel was more to blame than Haniel for that.

Once Parasiel was finished with the lights, Gabriel turned his attention to setting up a buffet of kinds. On Castiel’s request, there was a table filled with eighteen variations of pie.

Another table with a lace tablecloth popped up. It was covered in heart shaped (and occasionally, dick shaped) sweets.

For Sam, there was a salad buffet with a smoothie maker at the back. He wouldn’t need to put anything into the smoothie maker, just picture the smoothie he wanted when he pressed the button.

Noticing his brother’s tendency towards junk food, Gabriel created a table filled with various burgers. They were enchanted to constantly stay hot, small tunnels of smoke trailing from off them.

Gabriel let his grace extend for a moment, touching on Charlie. Within an instant he’d found what he needed. Gabriel pulled up a table with an assortment of Harry Potter themed foods. It ranged from chocolate frogs to glasses of butterbeer and firewhiskey, lined up at the back.

The cupids had asked for the different worldly sweets Gabriel had kept the corner of Heaven stocked with, and he obliged. Lining the table were Indian sweets and Turkish sweets, Tunisian sweets and Asian sweets. Parasiel’s eyes had lit up when she wandered in and saw the selection Gabriel had laid out. She gravitated towards the sweets, eying the new ones with a suspicious curiosity.

It was just after 5 am when they’d finally finished and regrouped in the living area to admire. Castiel’s hair had more glitter in than before, and he wasn’t entirely sure how.

Gabriel waved his hand, and the heart lights flickered to life. They flashed in patterns, the lights chasing round the room. The cupids watched with fascinated wide eyes, till Castiel managed to catch their attention. They understood almost immediately, and followed Castiel like little ducklings out of the bunker.

Gabriel frowned after them, but decided to only follow if they hadn’t gotten back with ten minutes. It felt like too much effort to move now, as he slumped into one of the chairs.

He needn’t have waited that long. A few minutes, Castiel came back on his own. “Could you enlarge the doorway please, Gabriel?”

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at him, but he snapped his fingers, and there was a distant grinding sound as the entrance widened. Castiel smiled and mumbled a “Thank you,” before walking back towards the door.

Less than a minute later, he heard the sound of Castiel guiding the cupids. They quickly came into sight, balancing the ten tier cake between them. It was completely different to the idea the cupids had described to Gabriel. The archangel decided that, despite the lack of figures in sexual positions, this version was much better.

Despite his preference for amusing innuendo packed things, Gabriel still appreciated sentimental things. He wouldn’t admit it anyone, but sometimes, he’d rather sentimental over sexual.

* * *

Dean woke up slowly. He opened his eyes to Castiel perched on the edge of the bed, watching him with a gentle smile that stretched up to his eyes. Dean smiled lazily back, till noticing the way Castiel sparkled like a disco ball.

“Why d’you look like you’ve stepped out of a Twilight book?” He asked, his speech muffled by sleep and pillows. Dean then noticed the garish backdrop to Castiel and frowned. “Why’re the walls pink?”

“Gabriel.”

Dean frowned, his brow furrowing. Castiel couldn’t help but notice how precious it looked on his sleep-addled expression. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” Dean said eventually, like he’d just understood everything. Which he kind of had – it explained the pink walls, but not the glitter.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean,” Castiel said, and Dean smiled.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Cas,” Dean replied. “I haven’t had chance to get anything. I’d kinda forgotten about it all.”

Castiel smiled, and held his hand out. “I think we’re covered in that area,” he said, and Dean frowned at him.

“What?”

“Come and have a look.” Castiel shook his hand, and Dean sighed before putting his hand in Castiel’s. The former angel wrapped his fingers around it, and tugged Dean from the duvet and sheets with a superhuman strength. Dean ended up stumbling into Castiel, who caught him from falling with a chuckle. “Are you good?”

Dean looked up at him, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I guess you could say… I’m falling for you.”

Castiel groaned and shook his head whilst Dean laughed. “That was awful. You’ve spent too much time around Gabriel.”

“Well, I think I’m hilarious.”

“At least you’re attractive – it makes up for your absent sense of humor.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow and smirked. “Are you flirting with me, Cas?”

“I’m not some flailing imbecile, Dean. I’ve spent enough time on Earth, and around you, to understand how to flirt.”

“So, what else have you learned from me?” Dean said with a growing grin and a wink.

Castiel tilted his head as he regarded Dean carefully. “Many things. I’m sure you wouldn’t object to me showing you later.” His voice was suggestive, and Dean was quite certain that this was some kind of blasphemy. He didn’t care much.

“Oh,” he breathed out, and Castiel smirked. His words had obviously had the intended impact. “Nope. Definitely won’t be objecting later.”

“Good. You just behave today, and I’ll treat you tonight.”

Dean let out something akin to a strangled, high-pitched laugh.

* * *

Sam woke to a tight squeezing sensation around his chest. He tensed, feeling a light sensation hovering over his body, till he heard a soft humming noise from by his shoulder.

“Gabriel?” He said hesitantly.

“Mhm?”

“Thank God it’s you.”

“Don’t thank Dad; Dad don’t do shit anymore.”

Sam rolled his eyes and tried to get up. Gabriel just tightened his grip on the hunter, one of his legs wrapping around his waist. “You’re like a winged koala bear,” Sam muttered. Gabriel responded with a brief squeeze.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sammich.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gabe,” Sam replied. He felt a soft kiss pressed against the nape of his neck, and melted into the warmth he felt blossom from the spot. There were definitely perks to being romantically involved with an archangel, Sam decided. It often meant that all the small things had a new twist to them, given a brand new meaning and breath of life. If they even counted as romantically involved, that was. He wasn’t sure if he was jumping ahead with his presumptions.

“Nah, I’d say we’re romantically involved,” Gabriel said, and Sam frowned.

“You’re in my head?”

“Not deliberately – you’re pretty much yelling, Sambo. And we fucked, so I’m a little more in sync with you than, say, Dean.”

Sam wasn’t entirely settled with the idea, but tried to think quietly.

“Not working. Don’t worry, I’ll figure how to block it out at some point.”

“Are we getting up at any point?” Sam asked, changing the subject. He felt Gabriel shrug against his back, and only noticed then how warm the archangel felt pressed against him. It was like sleeping next to a radiator that wore clothes.

“You can. I’m not letting go.”

Sam took that as more of a challenge than anything, not doubting that Gabriel would hold the deadlock grip he had. He managed to shuffle into a sitting position with the archangel still on his back, and stood up slowly. Ignoring the noises of protest, Sam walked out the door.

“Are you sure you’re not a koala in disguise?” Sam asked, and Gabriel grumbled something into his back.

“Sam?” The younger Winchester turned around to Charlie, who was watching him in a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Yeah?”

“You know you’ve got a Gabriel on your back, right?” Sam just laughed, and nodded. “Okay. I just wanted to know if you knew,” Charlie said, and chuckled a little herself as she brushed past them.

Sam carried on walking, then frowned. Something felt off. He glanced around with his brow furrowed, until he managed to pinpoint what was nagging at the back of his mind.

“Gabriel, why are the walls pink?”

“Romance, Moose,” he replied. An arm unfolded from around Sam and pointed forwards. “Now onwards, my trusty steed. There’s more to be seen, and I’m hungry.”

“You can’t get hungry.”

“I use my imagination, and my imagination says I’m hungry.”

Sam rolled his eyes and walked on in the direction Gabriel pointed. When they emerged out into the main living area, Sam didn’t even try to suppress the gasp he let out. Little hearts twinkled around the edge of the ceiling, flickering different colors. Glitter sparkled across the floor. Balloons floated mid-air, inscribed with various images. Sam snorted when he spotted a badly drawn penis on one of them.

“Kitchen.”

Sam grumbled, but his quickened up when he heard Charlie making a loud, high-pitched noise. Sam rounded the corner into the kitchen to see Charlie covering her mouth, staring wide-eyed at a table filled with foods. She glanced over at Gabriel, who was now resting his head on Sam’s shoulder.

“Did you do this?”

“Yup. You like?”

“Get off Sam’s back so I can hug you, you precious dork!”

Sam felt the weight of Gabriel fall from off his back – he didn’t notice until Gabriel let go how little he actually seemed to weigh. Charlie rushed towards him, gripping the archangel in a tight hug. Sam took it as his chance to peer across the kitchen.

Sam took the chance to look at Charlie’s table. As his eyes skimmed over the sweets packaging, he realized it was all fictional food drawn from the Harry Potter book series. He let out an impressed “Huh,” and looked at all the other tables. There was a table almost overflowing with pies, sat comfortably next to a table with a wide variety of burgers. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who they were intended for.

Next to the burgers were the foreign sweets. They were followed by less foreign heart and penis shaped sweets, then it was the salad bar and the bright pink magic smoothie maker. Sam laughed loudly, and glanced over to Gabriel.

“You’re the best, you know that?” Charlie said as she let go, grinning wide.

“Don’t stroke his ego, Charlie,” Sam said. Gabriel pouted at him.

“What if my ego likes being stroked?”

“Your ego isn’t sentient.”

“My ego begs to differ. I can manifest it right here, if you want proof.”

“Alright boys. Save the cockfight for the bedroom,” Charlie said, shaking her head. “I swear, you’re like two overgrown kids.”

“Don’t call me an overgrown kid, kid,” Gabriel said with a wide grin.

“I don’t understand how you’re an archangel,” Charlie said. Gabriel shrugged at her.

“Me ne-“

“What the hell happened, Cas?!” Came Dean’s shout, and the three stood in the kitchen looked to each other, suppressing laughter.

“Looks like holy hell have joined us,” Gabriel remarked. Sam went wide-eyed, biting his lips together to stop himself from cracking up.

Dean stormed into the kitchen, glaring pointedly at Gabriel. “You,” he growled out, pointing at Gabriel. The archangel grinned at him and waved, which led to Dean clenching his jaw. Castiel entered behind him, his hand coming to rest on Dean’s shoulder as he watched in vague amusement. “You son of a bitch.”

“It’s just a temporary thing, Dean-o. Gotta be nice to the cupids and celebrate their day.”

Dean tensed. “It looks like some cheesy Disney romcom shit out there!”

“Remember our agreement, Dean,” Castiel said coolly. Dean’s breath hitched. He relaxed at the words, and Gabriel quirked his eyebrow, glancing between them curiously.

“Kinky. Lovely. Just keep the sex talk out the kitchen please. I want to eat, not barf,” Charlie said, and Dean felt his cheeks flush a little. Gabriel laughed at his reaction, and Sam shuffled off to his little table.

“Before you all start eating, there is one final thing we would like you to see,” Castiel said, and walked out the kitchen. Gabriel followed him, and the humans, after looking to each other in confusion, decided to follow.

“Haniel. Anzhela. Parasiel. Vangelis. Would you like to bring the cake out?” Castiel called out, and his words were met with the sound of chattering, giggling cupids. They emerged with wide grins plastered on their faces and a ten-tier cake, somehow balanced on a wooden board between them.

Sam, Dean and Charlie could only look upon it in awe.

“Gabriel asked them to initially construct the cake-“

“But after ‘The Incident’, Castiel took over and gave us a new plan for the cake!” Haniel interrupted, with an innocent smirk on his face. Vangelis ruffled his hair.

“I simply gave them a rough idea – they had free creative reign over it.”

“It’s…” Charlie wasn’t quite sure how to put her thoughts into words.

“It’s amazing,” Sam said, and Dean nodded.

“It’s… What he said.”

The bottom two layers were decorated in quite a basic fashion, with pink and red fondant hearts embellishing the icing. They were all different sizes, scattered in an uneven formation.

The third layer had a coating of plaid patterned icing. A few fondant dogs stood on the top – Labradors and German Shepherds and Jack Russells, amongst others. On the side was a small picket fence running the circumference of the layer, with a scattering of books and various vegetables.

The fourth layer had a deep green background, with rune like images inscribed with golden icing pen. The story of Loki’s children took up a quarter of the layer, and fed into the tale of Hermes stealing Apollo’s goats. The final half was decorated with six golden wings that curved around the cake. The Horn of Gabriel sigil sat comfortably in the middle.

The fifth layer was a vibrant red. The Deathly Hallows sign was etched in black. The yellow brick road ran around the bottom of the layer, much akin to the picket fence. Walking down the road were surprisingly accurate fondant renditions of Hermione Grainger, Katniss Everdeen and Daenerys Targaryen, amongst others.

The sixth layer was a vibrant blue. This one was another story layer, depicting the tale of Creation. It showed a watcher, looking over the first fish emerging from the ocean. Gazing at the burning library of Alexandria. Observing the fall of Babylon. A pair of black wings sat in the central focal point, with a halo in between them.

The seventh layer was wrapped in emerald green icing. A thread of black had been wound like a necklace, looping around the top of the layer. The pendant – a fondant Samulet – hung down to the center of the layer. Stemming off from that were a few decorative fondant pies, and a rather accurate Impala on the opposite side.

The top three layers were much akin to the bottom two – mostly plain, decorated with pink and red fondant hearts.

“Fuck it. This calls for a soppy hug time,” Gabriel said, and the cupids didn’t need telling twice. They pulled everyone in – though no-one resisted the hug – and hugged tight.

* * *

After a long day, they’d all retired to the living room. Anzhela had suggested they watch a film, which there had been very little objection to. Upon seeing the sofa, Gabriel decided it was inadequate, and clicked his fingers. The aging, tan brown sofa was replaced by a chocolate colored leather sofa, stretching over twice the size.

Now, Castiel and Dean sat together at the left end, both with their recliners up. Charlie sat next to them with her legs tucked underneath her and a bowl of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans on her lap. Sam sat next to her, with Gabriel curled up next to him, his head resting against Sam’s shoulder.

Parasiel and Anzhela shared one of the large beanbags, whilst Vangelis and Haniel sat on the other one.

When Gabriel noticed the TV, he apparently decided that was also inadequate, and also needed to be twice the size. “You like it big, huh?” Dean had remarked with a mischievous grin. Sam knew Gabriel’s response before he even began to utter it.

“Good thing I’ve got Sammy here, huh?”

That quickly shut Dean up, and set Charlie off laughing. Haniel continued to labor over the DVD player, finally figuring out how to open the disk drawer, and popped the DVD in. Now it was figuring out how to make it play.

“So… Did you actually screw a horse?”

Gabriel glared over at Charlie, before replying, “It’s a long story.”

“Woah, am I going to get horse S-T-Ds?” Sam said jokingly, shuffling away from Gabriel on the sofa.

“I don’t have horse S-T-Ds!” Gabriel huffed and pulled Sam, who was currently acting as his human cushion, back. Deciding he wanted to change the subject, Gabriel said, “Han, you done yet?”

The cupid looked up from the DVD player. “Almost, brother! This is a very fancy one – it’s a bit confusing.”

“Do you need me to sort it?” Dean said, preparing to shuffle up from the sofa. Castiel had his arm draped lazily over Dean’s shoulders, and Dean’s hand rested on Castiel’s knee. Parasiel had remarked on how cute they looked together multiple times in the last ten minutes.

“No, I‘ll sort it,” Vangelis replied. He shuffled from his beanbag across to Haniel, and grabbed the remote off him. “Brother, you have been pressing the rewind button.”

“Oh.”

Vangelis shuffled back to the beanbag with Haniel, and pressed the play button. The film began to roll.

“So, what cheesy shit are we watching?” Gabriel asked.

“When Harry Met Sally!” Haniel cheered out.

“We never managed to finish watching it,” Anzhela added, and Parasiel nodded.

“The internet said it was one of the best romantic comedies, so it is quite appropriate for today,” Parasiel said.

“I swear, this is the weirdest Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had,” Dean muttered.

“The best one though, right?” Sam said, pressing his lips to the top of Gabriel's head. Dean nodded with a small smile as he looked at Castiel, then at all the other occupants in the room. He’d never expect to share a Valentine’s Day with his brother, his two best friend (one now boyfriend), an archangel (who was dating his brother) and four cupids. And he definitely never expected it to be such a good day.

He felt Castiel nuzzle against the side of his neck, and sighed happily.

“Yeah. The best one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is all finally done! Thank you all for reading! It's been a little tough keeping up with the whole chapter a day thing, but I managed it! Be proud of me.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you've thought of the overall fic.
> 
> Next fic coming up: One Last Time. It's going to be at least triple the size of this, and much more serious - keep an eye out if you're interested!
> 
> And thank you all so much once again~ <3


End file.
